


The Song of My Heart

by DomesticGoddess



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Dancing!, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, Dwarves in the Shire, Exasperated!Thorin, F/M, Family Head!Bilbo, Grumpy!Bilbo, Hurt!Bilbo, King!Thorin, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-marriage wooing, Rough start/Happy ending, Size Kink, Slow Burn, They're political equals, Wedding Planning, age gap, genius!Bilbo, heartsongs, jealous!Thorin, stubborn!bilbo, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21739435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DomesticGoddess/pseuds/DomesticGoddess
Summary: After a failed attempt of trying to carve out a new home in the Blue Mountains for his people, Thorin finds himself beseeching the Hobbit Thain and his council for a place for his people in their bountiful land. An agreement is struck and plans in the works for integrating his people into their land. The only condition being an arranged marriage between himself and one of their family heads. A small price to pay to see his people safe and well fed. Unfortunately, he’s to marry the most disagreeable hobbit in all the Shire who also seems to hold a personal grudge against him. If only he could figure out why his new betrothed hates him so much.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, One-sided Lobelia/Bilbo Baggins, One-sided OMC/Bilbo Baggins
Comments: 573
Kudos: 1110





	1. The Hobbit Council

Thorin sat in the study as he waited. Balin sat beside him, both of them in plush chairs barely big enough to contain them. Living among the smaller peaceful race certainly wasn’t his first choice, but, after the disaster that was Erid Luin, he was willing to consider options he wouldn’t have before. 

After leading his people west to the Blue Mountains to start afresh in the old forgotten halls of old, they had discovered that it had remained abandoned for good reason. The caverns were decrepit and unsteady and all veins of anything valuable had long been depleted, coal being the only consistent resource. But the worst was the gas, poisonous natural gases seeped out from the mountain's core with every swing of a pickax, with every stone moved. 

They had been forced to build homes outside of the mountain, to live on its slopes. But they were not adept in growing things and the terrain made it difficult to raise animals. Without consistent food and money sources, his people were suffering and dwindling. They had already lost so many to cave-ins, gas poisoning, hunger and disease. He could not bear to watch his people suffer any longer. 

Which is why he was here, in the home of the Thain of the halflings. As much as it burned to seek aid from any other race, it was the hobbits or the men. His own folk had already made it clear how they felt about harboring so many refugees. The hobbits were the obvious choice compared to men. The men showed no hesitation in taking full advantage of his people’s desperate situation.

But the halflings had been merciful, compassionate, when Thorin had led his people through the Shire fifteen years ago. Halflings were not a wealthy people compared to other races. They valued food and land over valuable metals and gems. But they traded generously and freely with his dwarrow when they had sought them out, offering food and other practical goods in exchange for pretty baubles, fine smithy work, and other manual labor services. 

Indeed, if it weren’t for the assistance offered by the halflings, he would have lost far more dwarrow that following winter. The Fell Winter as the halflings called it. The first winter his people had to stay in that death trap called a mountain. 

And that was why he was here. His people didn’t need gold and stones. They needed safe places to live and food to fill their bellies. The halflings possessed both in droves and he was confident that the dwarrow had plenty to offer in return. 

He sighed as Balin calmly sipped at tea by his side. After three days of conferencing with the Thain, he was finally going to present his proposal before the Council of Masters, a group consisting of the heads of all the major halfling families, apparently. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension. The Thain had been agreeable, but had warned that they were not a people who favored change, especially not big changes.

The door to the study opened and Thorin sprang to his feet respectfully as the Thain walked in. 

“Well, I think we’re just about ready. Only waiting on one more now and I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.” The Thain announced. 

Thorin nodded once. “Thank you for this opportunity.”

The Thain waved off his gratitude and took a seat behind his work desk. “It's not in our nature to ignore those in need. But you need to understand that this meeting is very important. Even if I were to accept your proposal as the Thain, it will never happen without the support of the family heads.” He explained. 

Thorin nodded also re-raking his seat. It was no different than with the noble class among dwarrow. The family heads must be the equivalent of nobles for the halflings. 

“Although . . . “ The Thain continued thoughtfully. “You should know that the power and influence held by the family heads is not . . . distributed equally. If you want your proposal to pass . . . and succeed, it is imperative that you garner the favor of one hobbit in particular. Master Baggins’ power and influence is only second to mine, and only because I am the Thain. If he opposes the agreement, it will take a united effort of every other family head, including myself to compensate, and even then, I cannot guarantee that it will succeed. If he approves, even if he is the only one to approve, I have no doubt this venture will succeed.”

“Can it truly be that simple?” Thorin asked suspiciously. Though it could work in his favor, it was generally bad politics to have a single individual beside the king hold so much power. 

“Oh, I assure you, there won’t be anything simple about it. Master Baggins may be the trump card in this deck, but he’ll also be the most difficult to convince.”

Thorin’s stomach sank. Of course. Why could nothing ever be easy? “And what makes him so powerful, if I may ask?”

“Well, though there are twelve major families represented on the council, they are not all equal. The three oldest, and thus most influential, of the families are the Tooks, the Baggins’, and the Brandybucks. Not only is he the head of one of the wealthiest and most influential families, Master Baggins is also closely related to both the Tooks and the Brandybucks.” The Thain sent him a meaningful look. 

So, not only was this Master Baggins powerful in his own right, he had connections with each of the other powerful families. 

“Also, he is brilliant. I didn’t tell you you needed his approval just because of his influence, but also because of his ability. The Baggins’ are known for two things: their strict adherence to proper etiquette and their superior management skills. The second is the key to their continued financial success despite being a rather small family. Master Baggins’ father was heralded as a genius in his day. Well, let’s just say that the son has far out-shined his father. If anyone can orchestrate a venture the size of the one you are proposing, it would be Master Baggins. Without him, it would a very slow and painful process for everyone, if it succeeded at all.” 

Thorin’s stomach twisted into a knot. His people’s future, their very survival, was at the mercy of a single halfling's approval. At the same time, he couldn’t help but be curious. “How will I know which one is Master Baggins?”

The Thain was about to reply when the door opened and his wife popped her head in. “He’s here. They’re waiting for you in the conference room.”

“Thank you, my dear.” The Thain said as he got up from his chair and walked around his desk as Thorin and Balin also stood. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He patted Thorin’s arm encouragingly before leading them out to the conference room.

They followed the Thain out into a room full of halflings of various shapes and sizes. The master’s were all standing around a long conference table. Out of respect or shock, Thorin couldn’t be sure. The looks on their faces, however spoke volumes. He received a variety of stares of surprise, confusion, trepidation, and, yes, contempt. One particular halfling looked like Thorin had just walked in and slapped him across the face. 

His eyes lingered on that one, not because of his look of shock, but because he stuck out from the rest. He looked younger than any of the others and his features were so fair and delicate, from his pointed ears to his button nose, that Thorin was reminded of the tales he’d heard about the halflings having descended from fae. He had always discounted them as myths, but looking at this halfling, it made him wonder if there was some truth to it after all. The halfling's startlingly bright green eyes only added to his fae-like appearance.

Thorin wouldn’t admit it if asked, but he found the fae-like halfling rather . . attractive . . in a purely exotic and non-bearded kind of way. He was obviously significantly younger than any of the other halflings and Thorin wondered if he was the scribe for the meeting. Likely a young relative of the Thain working his way up the political ladder.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I know that, with the onset of harvest season, some of you are very busy. But I assure you that this is a matter of great importance and we will do our best to wrap it up quickly.” The Thain addressed the room, snapping the majority of them out of their shocked stares. 

“As you can see, we are joined by Master Thorin Oakenshield, King of the Dwarves who reside in the Blue Mountains and his adviser Master Balin. I know not all of you were Masters at the time, but you should all remember the large caravan of dwarves who passed through the Shire fifteen years ago.”

The masters were standing around listening in silence, giving a nod here or there as the Thain spoke, clearly in a show of respect. Until one of them took a seat. It was the fae halfling. There was an uncomfortable fidgeting from the rest, save for a few, as they cast apprehensive looks at the now seated scribe. 

When Thorin shifted his gaze back to the seated fae halfling, their eyes locked. The halfling was covering his nose and mouth with a dark handkerchief as if implying he could smell the dwarves from where he sat and was disgusted by it. His eyes were full of anger and hostility as he glared up at Thorin. 

Thorin’s hackles raised at the slight. Obviously, he wouldn’t be winning this halfling's support. Thorin held his head just a little higher but forced himself to stay calm. No amount of violence or aggression would win this fight. Besides, he didn’t need a mere scribe’s approval anyway. 

The Thain continued as if nothing had happened. “King Thorin and Master Balin are here to propose an arrangement that, I think, would prove beneficial for both of our peoples.” The Thain took his seat, gesturing for Thorin and Balin to take the seats directly to his right as the other halflings also began taking their seats. 

Thorin took the offered seat, which put him directly across from the fae halfling. The handkerchief was still pressed over his nose, but he was sitting back more relaxed now, his free arm crossed over his middle, and his glare conveying more of a cold anger than hot fury.

Thorin shifted his gaze away from the cold, criticizing stare. It didn’t matter what _that_ hobbit thought. He only needed to worry about Master Baggins. He began surreptitiously scanning the masters, trying to deduce which ones were the most likely candidates. 

There were several that looked like they could fit the role. A few older ones, a few dressed exceedingly well, and several who were still gracing him with much less than approving glares. But there was one in particular who struck Thorin as being the most likely ‘Master Baggins.’ He was seated at the opposite end of the table as the Thain. He had an impressive girth which his expensive clothes stretched to wrap around. His curly hair was partially grayed over his rounder than typical face (thanks to his excessive weight) where his scowling, judgmental eyes peered out from. Thorin could almost feel the disapproval radiating off the halfling. 

If that was the halfling he had to convince, he couldn’t help but anticipate a difficult uphill battle. 

“Master Thorin, if you would like to present your proposal.” The Thain prompted once everyone was seated and comfortable. 

Thorin nodded and thanked the Thain before pausing briefly to decide if he should stand or remain seated to do so. He should have asked the Thain more about their meeting procedures. He quickly decided to stay seated so as not to tower over the halflings. He cleared his throat and hoped for the best.

“As some of you may know, I led my people to the Blue Mountains fifteen years ago in hope of carving out a new home for us there. Unfortunately, the mountain has been anything but welcoming. The old halls are crumbling and resistant to repair, the slopes are barren, and poisonous gases seep up from the deep to suffocate and maim. My people can no longer suffer the mountain. What I have come to propose is a trade. My people are strong warriors and superior smiths. We can offer your Shire added protection, high quality products for trade, and a strong workforce. In exchange, all we seek is space to dwell in your lands and the opportunity to work, trade or barter for sustenance.” Thorin made his pitch, deciding to keep it short and to the point. These were halflings not dwarrow, he didn’t want to lose any of them with complicated arguments and wordy jargon.

The masters murmured to each other around the table as they processed his request. Thorin glanced back at the Thain who gave him a tiny nod of approval. Next his eyes wondered back to the fae looking halfling. The handkerchief was gone and he had pulled out a small leather bound notepad which he was already busy jotting something down in. The scowl on his face was less pronounced as he focused on his notepad. 

Suddenly, he snapped his pad shut and put it away inside his jacket before pulling out a larger, thinner pad. He flipped through it, setting his pencil in the pages to hold his spot when he found what he was looking for. He set it down on the table and glanced up, meeting Thorin’s eyes. His glare was still cold but less hostile. 

“Well.” The Thain prompted to get things moving. “Shall be get this discussion going then? I’m sure someone's bound to have questions.”

"How many dwarves are we talking about . . exactly?" One of them hesitantly spoke up. 

"At our last count, our number was two hundred and fifty-three." Balin supplied.

"Two hundred fifty!?" One of the others exclaimed in disbelief. There was a more pronounced murmuring now, some of the master's were already shaking their heads. The scribe silently jotted something done in his little book. 

"So many!" "Where would be put them all?" "Too many." "We don't have that kind of space." "How would we feed them all?"

Thorin's stomach began to sink as the murmurs were decidedly not in his favor.

"What's your household size?" The master sitting next to Balin spoke up over the murmuring. 

"What bloody difference does it make?! We don't have room for that many dwarves!" Another countered before Balin could answer.

"Of course it makes a bloody difference!" The one next to Balin retaliated. "Household size determines how many homes they'll need which affects how much land they'll need!" 

"And I'm tellin' you it don't matter! We don't have the land!"

"Master Boffin. Master Brandybuck's question is valid and significant. Be quiet and let the dwarves answer." The Thain interfered before it could escalate. Well, that was two hobbits Thorin could cross off the list in his search for Master Baggins and it identified one of the three big power holders for him. 

"Household size can vary from two to upward of twelve, but Dwarrow families are very close and there would be no qualms of housing extended families together in order to make more room." Balin was finally able to answer.

"Space isn't the only issue here." Another halfling spoke up. "We need to know how much food they're going to need. What if we don't have enough to feed everyone?"

"Another very valid point, Master Proudfoot." The Thain agreed. "Perhaps you could give us an idea of the food consumption for the average family."

Another halfling that Thorin could mark of his list. He glanced back at the scribe who was dutifully taking notes in his book. He had a pair of little spectacles sitting on his nose that he didn't look nearly old enough to need as he peered down at his book. It was actually . . . kind of cute. Thorin mentally chided himself for getting distracted by the scribe . . again. He still hadn't figured out which one was Master Baggins.

"The average family of five consider it eating well if they spend three silver a week on food." Balin reassured, or rather, thought he reassured until the room broke out in incredulous gasps and denials.

"Three silvers a week?!" "So much!" "We can't afford that!" "They must be feast twenty times a day!"

Thorin and Balin were both confused. Despite what Balin had said about eating well, 3 silvers was usually the minimum requirement to keep a family healthy. Thorin caught the scribe eyeing him from the corner of his vision. He glanced over and met the the scribe's eyes. The fae halfling studied him for a few more moments before returning to his note taking.

"Aha!" Master Brandybuck exclaimed, silencing the others. "You trade with the men for food, don't you?"

"That is correct." Thorin answered.

Instantly the tension in the room eased with relieved chatter. "Well, _that_ explains it." "The big folk are mighty greedy." "They'll pinch ya for every copper they can." "Don't know what they're so proud of. Couldn't grow a proper crop if it came with directions."

Thorin suppressed a smirk at the chatter. It seemed every race had its pride and a reason to look down on the others. At least it might work in his favor in this instance.

“Alright, alright.” The Thain reigned them in. “We know their numbers, their household size, and their cost of living in regards to food, or at least an idea. Are there any other questions?” The Thain sent a meaningful glance to the scribe on his left. 

But the fae halfling wasn’t listening. He was hunched over his book, his free hand wrapped around his head and buried in his curls, murmuring and scratching away with his pencil at a rapid rate. 

Thorin raised a brow, he’d never seen anyone get so absorbed in their note taking. His eyes lingered on the way small deft fingers fiddled with honey blonde curls with just a hint of gold, the way those dainty spectacles sat on that delicate little nose. He felt a strange sensation stir in his belly, one he hadn't experience in quite some time, but quickly snuffed it out. This was a halfling for Mahal’s sake, young and likely related to the Thain! Nor did he have the luxury to think of such things right now. 

“Take that as a no.” Master Brandybuck chuckled quietly. 

“Any concerns then? If we were to agree to this proposal, it would mean big changes for the Shire.” The Thain continued, if a bit quieter than before. 

There was a quiet murmuring now as the halflings discussed their concerns with each other. The tone of the entire room seemed to have quieted and Thorin was at a loss as to why.

“It would be nice to have some proper smiths around. The humans charge too much for shoddy work, but how do we know the dwarves will treat us any better?” One of the still unnamed halflings ventured. 

“He’s right. Everyone knows of the greed of dwarves. How do we know we’ll be exempt?” Another agreed.

“Well, that’s a no brainer, isn’t it?” Master Brandybuck replied before either of the dwarrow could answer. “We have something they need. They can’t afford to charge us more than we’re willing to pay. We can do without fancy baubles and dwarven made tools and pottery. But they can’t very well do with out food, can they? They’re the one’s more likely to be exploited here, not us.”

As true as it was, Thorin didn’t like it being laid out there so obviously. But the halfling was right, the dwarrow had more to lose.

“Won’t happen.” The scribe murmured with a shake of his head amidst the rest of his quiet inarticulate ramblings.

The masters seemed to pause in consideration. “And what about our businesses?” Yet another spoke up. “Some of us could be put out of business if we have to compete with dwarves. Our hobbit smithy might as well shut down now.” 

Thorin raised a brow, he’d never heard of a halfling smith. 

“Free market.” The scribe murmured again, his focus never leaving his book. 

“We have no desire to replace any of your businesses. Rather, we hope to fill in whatever needs you may have by using our own distinct skill sets. We are dwarrow, not hobbits. We could never grow a crop or keep animals with the expertise that you have, but there are many useful skills that we have to offer that may not be within the considerable range of hobbit skills and interests.” Balin explained diplomatically. “As for any overlap, we would happily work along side those with similar skills for the good of our combined communities.”

There was a murmur as the halflings quietly conversed among themselves again. Thorin was starting to see more nodding and hear more speculations turning in their favor. But, one halfling, the big, grumpy looking one on the end, still looked as displeased and criticizing as before, if not more so. 

Finally, the very same hobbit slowly raised from his seat, his considerable girth forcing him to push his seat out to make more room. The others quieted to await his speech. 

“I say we send them back to the mountain where they came from! This is the Shire, the land of hobbits! There are countless mountains for them to choose from! Why come to us? Do we have mountains for them?” There was an uncomfortable fidgeting around the table as the fat hobbit continued. “Everyone knows about the greed of dwarves. They come asking for our food and land. What next?! Our pipe-weed and our ales?! They come begging now because we have what they need, but mark my words, once they get comfortable they’ll be running us out of our homes and lands! Everyone knows of the brutality and greed of the dwarves!” The halfling spat like venom. 

Thorin’s anger burned. How dare this fat halfling accuse them of such atrocities?! As if they were orcs instead of dwarves! Master Baggins or not there was no way he was going to ignore such accusations. He was just about to stand and rebut the challenge when another voice stopped him. 

“Sit down and shut up.” It was the scribe's voice, only it wasn’t a murmur. It came out bold and authoritative. Thorin whipped his head around in outrage only to find the scribe wasn’t talking to him. He was glaring down the table at the fat one. 

There was a shocked silence before the fat one started spluttering furiously, face red with rage. “How dare you?! You can’t talk that way to me!” The fae hobbit slowly removed his spectacles while the fat one was talking and gently set them on the table. “You shouldn’t even be here! You’re not fit to be on this council! If you were half the hobbit your father was-“

“Master Bolger!” The Thain chided but the rebuke was lost when the scribe slammed his palms on the table in the middle of, apparently, Master Bolger’s, tirade, cutting him off. 

The scribe(?) stood up slowly, his movements almost menacing in their precision, until he was at his full height. He wasn’t particularly tall, even for a hobbit. Thorin guessed he might even be slightly below average in size, but his presence seemed to fill the room oppressively. Some of the masters even shrank back from him as he glared furiously at the fat hobbit at the end. 

Thorin was mesmerized. The dwarrow had a name for this sort of thing. It was called the warrior’s spirit. They believed that, sometimes, in battle or times of confrontation the spirit of a warrior could manifest itself to the point where it could be experienced by his enemies or those around him. It was fairly common, particularly in time of war, but not all manifestations were equal. They believed that the stronger the warrior’s spirit, the more potent their manifestation. 

He had not seen many to match this one. He felt a shiver of excitement run down his spine as he stared transfixed at the small hobbit who seemed to tower over them all. 

“If I was half the hobbit my father was, I would give you such a tongue lashing that you wouldn’t dare show your face at these meetings again for your humiliation.” The younger hobbit ground out low and evenly. “As it is, I can’t hear myself think over your useless prattle, so if you have nothing significant or relevant to contribute to this discussion then I recommend you shut your mouth and sit your arse down!”

Master Bolger seemed to collapse into his chair and his mouth snapped shut.

“Bilbo.” The Thain chided mildly though he looked to be suppressing a smirk. 

The younger hobbit, ‘Bilbo,’ snorted, unaffected by the gentle rebuke and the oppressive presence started to fade. “Since there doesn’t seem to be any more relevant information being presented, I’m going somewhere quiet where I can finish my calculations. If I could borrow your study.” He directed to the Thain at the end.

"Of course." The Thain allowed and the younger hobbit grabbed his things and walked off without so much as nod to the others, leaving an intimidated silence in his wake. 

Master Brandybuck let out a slightly nervous chuckle. "You're a brave hobbit, Master Bolger." 

Master Bolger seemed to be recovering in the fae hobbit's absence. "Gerontius! Th-this is unacceptable! You cannot allow him to-to speak like that to his elders! Elders on the council! Just because he's your favorite doesn't mean he can prance around like he owns the Shire! He is not even qualified-"

"Master Bolger." The Thain interrupted as he stood slowly from his seat. He too emitted a warrior's presence, though it was hardly as impressive as the younger's. "As my grandson so eloquently put it. Sit down and shut up. He has accomplished more in his fifteen years as a family head than you have in your entire lifetime. If one of you were to be removed from this council, I assure you, it would not be him." 

Master Bolger fell back against his seat looking awfully pale. Thorin swallowed thickly, he was starting to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. The young 'scribe' was the Thain's grandson _and_ was, in fact, a member of the council itself.

"Now," the Thain continued, "why don't we break for tea while we wait for Master Baggins to finish his calculations. I'm sure he won't be long." He waved and his wife and a few other hobbit lasses ushered in several tea service carts. 

Thorin sent a glance to his adviser who returned it with a wary side way glance of his own. The one halfling Thorin had been least concerned with earning favor with had been the very one he should have been worried about! Mahal help them! Who was this Master Baggins and why did it seem he already hated Thorin's guts?!


	2. The Venerable Master Baggins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~🎉🎉💖😄Happy Holidays!😄💖🎉🎉~~~  
> Please accept this bundle of updates as my gift to you and have a wonderful holiday season!!
> 
> Be sure not to miss any of these updates!  
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> 1 chapter of ["The Song of My Heart"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21739435/chapters/51861838)  
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The tension in the room dissipated as the family heads started getting up to stretch and retrieve refreshments. The Thain momentarily slipped into his study only to return almost immediately to retrieve his own cup of tea. 

Thorin took the opportunity to have a quiet conference of his own with Balin. **“It seems I’ve made a few miscalculations.”** He admitted quietly in his own tongue. 

**“I as well. He barely looked old enough to be on the council, certainly not as the venerable Master Baggins.”** Balin agreed. **“And that warrior spirit. I’ve not felt many the like of it. And from a hobbit no less!”** Balin shook his head in near awe. **“The Thain spoke true. Master Baggins could be our greatest ally . . . or our worst adversary in this endeavor.”**

Thorin sighed and ran a hand over his short, full beard. **“I will speak to the Thain.”**

“Aye.” Balin nodded. **“And I will see what I can dig up on our elusive Master Baggins.”**

They broke from their own private conference and Thorin casually made his way over to the Thain. He was having a hushed conversation with his wife and Thorin stood off a little ways, not wanting to interrupt.

“I should go check on him. Take him some tea.” He couldn’t help overhearing the elder hobbitess mumble to her husband. 

“No, my dear. You know how he gets when he’s working. He won’t like the intrusion.” The Thain tried to dissuade her. 

“I’m his grandmother! He won’t mind.” She insisted.

“Yes, which is why you would get away with it, but you shouldn’t interrupt him when he’s focused.” Her husband reasoned. 

She sighed. “But he works too hard, that boy. He won’t even take a sip of tea when he’s like that.” She complained worriedly. 

“Which is why you should leave him be so he can finish.” The Thain rubbed her arm reassuringly. “I’m sure you can corner him and force some tea and sweets on him them.”

She sniffed and stood up straighter. “He better take ‘em, if he knows what’s good for 'im!”

“That’s the spirit.” Gerontius chuckled. 

She turned and noticed Thorin waiting then and took her leave with a small tilt of her head. Gerontius, following his wife’s retreat, noticed him as well. “King Thorin.” He greeted and gestured the dwarf closer. 

“Thain.” Thorin greeted respectfully. 

“Well, it seems Bilbo’s taking your request seriously. I suspect he’ll have some solid numbers for us soon.” The Thain opened their conversation. 

“You didn’t mention that he was your grandson.” Thorin did his best not to let it sound accusing. 

“Didn’t I? Oh well. It doesn’t really make that much of a differences. I assure you, he owes very little of who he is to me. Besides getting away with a little sass during a council perhaps.” The Thain smirked mischievously.

“I fear he will not vote in our favor.” Thorin confided quietly. “He does not seem pleased that we’re here.”

“You mean the scowls and the glares? Yes, I noticed that too. Strange. He’s not usually one to judge by race or take notice of . . . anyone really. He’s a very busy lad. But, I’ve never known him to have any distaste for dwarves as a whole. Is it possible you’ve met before?”

“No.” Thorin was sure of that. There was no way he’d forget _that_ hobbit. “Was he a family head fifteen years ago?”

“No, no. His father was still alive when you passed through last time. One of your biggest supporters, actually. Bungo was as compassionate as he was proper. He encouraged folk to trade freely with your dwarves. He was a firm believer in deserved quality of life, regardless of race. Bilbo was training with Bungo then, but likely wouldn’t have been personally involved with any contact made with you.” 

“I don’t suppose you have any more advice on how to further garner his favor.”

Gerontius shook his head. “Bilbo’s a lad of facts and numbers. You gave him the info he needs. He’ll not be swayed by anything else. For him, the first hurdle is whether it’s possible or not. The next is whether it’s profitable. And, finally, whether it’s preferable. No amount of persuasion will affect him if the numbers don’t line up in your favor.”

“I believe that both our people could greatly benefit from this arrangement.” Thorin insisted. 

“As do I. Which is why I’m not overly concerned with the first two hurdles. But, Bilbo is a strategist, I assure you, money, land and food are only a part of his calculations.”

“And what about his personal feelings? Will they affect his decisions?”

“No. If he was going to refuse you just because he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t waste his time with calculations. You can rest assured he will make his decision based on facts and not personal feelings.”

Thorin nodded. He wasn’t sure he was convinced, but the Thain seemed confident. 

“Gorbadoc! How is the Buckland these days?” Thain turned to greet the approaching Master Brandybuck. 

“Oh, good, good. The usual I suppose. Things have been pretty stable since Bilbo pretty much took over.” He replied good naturedly. “Uh, how is he, by the way? He seems a bit . . disturbed today.” Gorbadoc sent a meaningful glance to the dwarf king.

“I can’t say. He only arrived just in time for the meeting. Didn’t get a chance to speak with him before hand.” Gerontius replied. 

“He works too hard, that one. Ya need to make him slow down, Gerontius. Sick Adamanta on ‘im.” Gorbadoc suggested with a smirk. 

The Thain chuckled. “He is a stubborn and independent lad. We can only do so much. But I do suspect Ada has plans to shove some food down his throat as soon as he emerges.” 

“Good! He’s much too thin for a hobbit.” Gorbadoc insisted. 

Thorin noticed Balin trying to catch his eye and respectfully dismissed himself from the conversation. It didn’t seem relevant anymore anyways. He casually wandered over to his adviser.

 **“What did you find out?”** He questioned quietly in their own language. 

**“Quite a bit.”** Balin returned with an almost excited giddiness. **“The opinions of our mysterious Master Baggins vary, though most consider him aloof, temperamental, and, decidedly, unhobbitish, whatever that means. As a general rule, he is not well liked as a person it seems. However! Despite this, he is greatly respected and even, to some degree, feared. Apparently, no one in their hobbit history has ever single-handedly held as much power as Master Baggins does, not even the Thains! And yet, despite the fear and the dislike, he is venerated throughout the Shire. Apparently, he was the youngest hobbit to ever take the role of family head and has nearly transformed the Shire in his short amount of time in the role in order to make sure they never suffer another catastrophe like the Fell Winter again.”**

 **“Whatever their opinions of his personality, the respect and confidence in his skills are unanimous. You can be sure, that whatever he has to say will greatly affect the decisions of the others.”**

“You say this likes it’s a good thing.” Sure, The young hobbit was impressive, but Thorin wasn’t sure it would work in their favor. 

**“His father was apparently the leader of those who rallied to our aid when we passed through fifteen years ago. Surely, he will vote in our favor!”**

**“You do not know that.”** Thorin rebutted quietly. **“You know as well as I the son doesn’t always share his father’s ideals.”**

**“Perhaps, but he understands. He knows what it’s like to want to improve conditions for one’s people. Surely we can appeal to that.”**

**“The Thain does not seem to think he will refuse us based on his own feelings, and neither does he think he could be persuaded one way or the other.”** Thorin related. 

Balin nodded his head. **“Then we will have to hope for the best.”**

The sound of the study door opening got everyone’s attention and they all turned as Master Baggins entered the conference room. He walked directly back to his seat, dropped his book on the table and sat down. It seemed to be some sort of signal as everyone began making their way back to their seats. 

Thorin retook his seat just as the Thain’s wife came over with a cup of tea and set it in front of Master Baggins. He gave her a tight nod and a mumbled thank you but pushed the cup away as soon as she left. 

Thorin watched him critically as he opened his book again and circled some things. He kept his eyes down, on the table or on his book. Thorin was almost positive he was purposely avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, Bilbo, what do you have for us?” Gerontius reopened the meeting once every one was settled again. 

Master Baggins closed his book and stood up to address the council. “It’s possible.” Was his first statement and the council filled with quiet murmuring. “Based on my calculations, we will need to greatly expand the Shire, both for living space and growing space, to accommodate a population surge of this size. We have land to the south, but it will need to be cleared and cultivated for use. It will take time to fully integrate the dwarrow and it will not be a quick project, but, with ample coordination, I could see it done in five to ten years. Fifteen at the most should conditions be less than cooperative.”

“Five to fifteen?!” Balin breathed in shock. Thorin was staring at him in disbelief. They had only been in Erid Luin for fifteen years and had barely established themselves there. 

“Is that too long for you? I was under the impression that dwarrow live long lives, longer than hobbit’s anyway.” Bilbo spoke down to them from where he stood.

“No! That is . . exceedingly fast! It is far better than we could hope for!” Balin assured. 

“Yes, well, that’s only if _I_ manage the whole thing. If I refuse involvement, you can expect it to take between fifty and seventy-five years. In which case, a good portion of the council will be replaced and you may yet be turned down by the future generation of council members.” Master Baggins quickly doused their excitement. 

The hope in Thorin’s chest turned to lead and dropped to his stomach as dread. Was Master Baggins implying he was going to refuse?

“Next, it is profitable.” Master Baggins continued to address the council. “Dwarrow are stronger and sturdier and would make excellent additions to both our workforce and our defenses. They are more resistant to the cold, making them more reliable for winter defense. Their skills are, for the most part, very different from ours and their products in these areas superior. . . . I believe that our two races, living together in close proximity, would greatly compliment each other.” He added almost reluctantly judging by how his voice quieted. 

Hope began to rise in Thorin’s chest once again. What had the Thain said? Possible, profitable and preferable? They had passed two out of three.

“So, if it’s possible and it’s profitable, than you think we should agree?” Master Brandybuck pried when Master Baggins paused.

“No.”

“No?” Another of the hobbit’s asked in confusion. “Even though it’s possible and profitable?”

“Yes.” Was Master Baggin’s short reply. 

Thorin’s stomach dropped again. They were so close! He could not leave without knowing why they were being refused. “Would you care to explain why?” He asked, trying not to sound confrontational. 

Master Baggins finally met his eyes, only to level him win a cold stare. “It is not preferable.”

“In what way, lad?!” Balin asked, almost desperately. 

Master Baggins looked away and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly as he picked up his book and opened it to a marked page. “What you are asking of us, is a massive project. We will need to increase living space by twenty percent, while taking dwarrow preferences and needs into account. It takes much longer work with stone and we have no significant resources for it. Even with your people’s help, it will take time.” 

“We don’t need homes of solid stone. Hobbit style homes will serve us just as well!” Balin tried to convince. 

“Oh, I’m sure they would serve you, but would they satisfy you? The last thing the Shire needs is a disgruntled dwarrow population. We could limit our need for imported stone if we carved your homes out of the hills of the White Downs, but that could also create a segregated population. If our two races are to work together, we cannot afford such blatant separation.”

“Then let us take care of our own housing. We will carve our own homes!” 

“Even if we agreed to that, which would further segregate our two races, we still have to increase our growing space by twenty-five percent to support your added population. Twenty-five percent! That means not only preparing that much extra land for planting but finding enough hobbit’s to work it. We’re talking family relocations, incentives to move, security measures for those who do agree to move, new roads for easy access to the rest of the Shire! Need I continue?!”

Thorin leaned back in his chair defeated. It sounded so daunting when presented with the details. Balin too was starting to look discouraged. “But we would happily aid you with whatever we could!” He continued to plead. 

“Yes, I’m sure that you would freely work for your own people’s sake. But, we have only discussed the physical aspects of your integration.” Bilbo plopped his book back on the table. “Hobbit’s are not a people who appreciate change. This is a massive change. Don’t imagine that everyone will be open or friendly towards it. It’s one thing to aid a visiting group of dwarrow. It’s quite another to move over and settle them next door. There will be suspicion, unrest, naysayers, vandals, and general disagreement in regards to the project itself before the dwarrow even get here. We could be looking at a Shire wide split between those who support and those who protest the integration. On that count, support from every family head would be vital.”

“As one who has initiated Shire wide changes, I assure you there will be problems.”

Thorin and Balin merely sat in silence. There was no aid they could offer in that regard. Thorin felt the weight of failure already settling on his shoulders. Would he ever find a home for his people? Where they destined to die in that cursed mountain?

“My final concern is for the future. Despite your coming to us for aid, I am well aware of your . . opinion of hobbits, of dwarrow opinion of hobbit’s in general. To put it bluntly, we are nothing to you. The fact that you came to us shows just how desperate your situation must be. And, though I do not wish to dismiss the needs of others, you must understand that I have reason to be concerned for my own people’s safety should your people settle here.”

“We offer no harm to your people. Why would we . . . wish to hurt the very people who helped us in our greatest time of need?!” Balin argued.

“Because we are hobbits.” Master Baggins almost hissed. “You may be grateful for a time, but as generations pass, the segregation between our peoples may grow and our aid forgotten. Some day your descendants may decide we’d make better slaves than neighbors.” He spat out.

Thorin reached his limit. He slammed his hands and the table and stood to face the fair halfling. “We would do no such thing! We are an honorable people! We remember our benefactors and value our allies! We seek no charity from halflings, but trade and cooperation of mutual benefit! You speak as if we are mere pillagers and looters! You speak of us as if we were _men_!” He shouted back, unable to contain his temper any longer as he towered over the shorter halfling.

“And you speak of us as if we were half of men! We are not _halflings_! We are half of nothing! We are _hobbits_!” Master Baggins shouted back, eyes full of fury and not the least bit intimidated by the larger dwarf. “Why should we expect any amount of respect to be shown by a race who comes to us as a last resort! Should we be honored that you favor the weakness of hobbits over the malice of men?!”

Thorin seethed as they glared each other down angrily. How dare this ~~half~~ -hobbit, speak to him this way?! He could practically feel the electricity in the air as their spirits warred against each other and a small part of him was noticeably impressed at this small hobbit who faced him so fearlessly, who almost seemed to . . match him in ferocity of spirit. 

“Alright, alright now. Let’s tone it down a bit.” The Thain stood to interfere. “I’m sure there’s a more civil way to discuss this.” He seemed to break the majority of the tension in the room and Thorin reluctantly lowered himself back into his seat first. It rankled him, as it was considered a sign of submission among dwarrow, but as he was the one seeking aid, he couldn’t afford to be proud.

“My apologies. . . . for my outburst and my use of a disrespectful term. I was not aware of its dismissive nature. I meant no offense.” He ground out. The rest of the council was clearly alarmed by the clash and were shrunk back, some half hidden under the table. The Thain looked more concerned than anything but Master Baggins still looked livid as he remained standing. 

As infuriating as he was, Thorin had to admit, this hobbit was made of tougher stuff than the others. 

“Bilbo.” The Thain coaxed when Master Baggins remained standing looking like he was ready to fight another round. 

Thorin was doing his best not to glare up at the furious hobbit. He saw Master Baggins’ ear twitch at the sound of his name. 

The fair hobbit took in a slow deep breath and slowly sighed it out. “That is all I have to say.” He concluded before picking up his cold cup of tea and marching over to one of the tea carts for a fresh cup. 

Gerontius’ eyes seemed to follow him as he went before he turned back to the council. “Well, I believe Master Baggins has raised some valid concerns. As much as I am for the aiding of other peoples, this would be a huge undertaking and we can’t afford to have any lingering doubts as to our future relationship with the dwarves.”

The council tentatively murmured in agreement and concern. Thorin was still watching Master Baggins, anger still simmering in his belly tempered only by desperation and fascination. The Thain’s wife was fussing over him now where he stood by the tea cart, back squarely to the council. He looked like he was covering his nose again. She looked concerned but he continued to brush off her fussing. 

“I don’t like it.” One of the council members spoke up and Thorin returned his attention to the meeting. “If Master Baggins thinks there’s reason to be concerned, I don’t think we should get involved.”

The Thain nodded in acknowledgement and Thorin’s desperation came back in full force. "I will tolerate no disrespect toward your people. I will enact laws to enforce your safety.” Thorin tried to convince. 

“And what about when you’re gone? And what if they resent the rules? You can’t force two people to respect each other.” Another questioned. 

“We will do everything we can to foster good relations between our peoples.”

“It won’t be enough.” Master Baggins intoned as he retook his seat, carrying a fresh cup of tea. His grandmother set a plate of sweets in front of him which he ignored. “Dwarrow and hobbit’s are both reclusive by nature. It will take more than a trade agreement or proximity to ensure future unity.” He said dismissively and took a leisurely sip of his tea. 

“So, we just need something . . . unifying. Something to bring us together, to break down those barriers.” Master Brandybuck speculated thoughtfully. 

“Like what? A crisis?! The Fell Winter would have been swell for that! We could have used some defensive aid, but that was fifteen years ago! With the new safety measures Master Baggins has implemented, we shouldn’t have any crises for a good long while.” Another hobbit contributed. 

“Though a crisis would likely be effective for such a thing, Master Proudfoot, you’re right. The Shire is better off now, than it has been in many generations. And creating a crisis is out of the question.” The Thain agreed. 

“Is there no other way?” Another hobbit timidly asked. 

“Aha!” Master Brandybuck slammed his hand on the table in triumph, startling half the hobbits around the table. The Thain merely raised an expectant brow and Master Baggins looked thoroughly unimpressed. “There is another way! What’s the fastest way to resolve conflict between two families in the Shire?!”

“Throw a party and get them all sloshing drunk?” One of the other’s offered.

Master Brandybuck waved him off with a tsk. “Besides that. I mean really resolve the conflict! Not just for the night. The Tooks and the Baggins used to always be at odds! What brought them together?” He asked smugly, waiting for the others to follow. 

“A marriage!” One of the others caught on quickly. “The best way to end a feud between two families is a uniting marriage!”

“But this isn’t two _families_ , it’s two _peoples_. It will take more than a common marriage to unite two peoples.” Another argued. 

Master Brandybuck waved him off and turned to Bilbo instead. “What do you think, Nephew, would a marriage work?!” 

Thorin glanced back to the fair hobbit awaiting his verdict. It was amazing how much the council valued and relied upon this young hobbit’s input. And now he knew exactly how he was related to the Brandybucks.

Master Baggins took another casual sip of his tea in silence. His eyes were closed and the entire council waited quietly for his answer. After a few moments he opened his eyes with another deep sigh. “It could work. If certain conditions are met. But it would be difficult to find someone to meet them.” He finally replied. 

“What conditions?” Gerontius prodded, sitting up straighter and looking invested in the answer. 

Master Baggins set down his tea in resignation before answering. “The marriage would have to be important, significant to both our peoples. Between two individuals of high influence for their respective people. The more powerful the better. And they would have to be individuals not easily controlled or manipulated or one side might accuse the other side of bullying or manipulating their representative. They would work together to consolidate our peoples and resolve rising conflicts between the two groups as well as physically represent the uniting of our two peoples.” 

He picked his tea cup back up. “Besides, both sides would have to agree to the marriage and present eligible candidates.” He shrugged, obviously not thinking either were very likely. 

“Is this something that you would be willing to agree to?” Gerontius turned to Thorin. 

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation. “If it would provide my people with what they need, I would not only agree to it, but would offer myself for the marriage.”

Balin gasped beside him, but his mind was already set. He was the highest level of authority for his people and would personally make sure that they received the resources they needed and the respect they deserved. 

The council murmured, both in surprise and apprehension. 

“Indeed.” The Thain sounded amused. “You are, after all, the king of your people. There is no one higher to recommend.” 

The Thain sounded satisfied with the offer, but Thorin felt a wave of fury hit him from across the table and slowly turned to meet Master Baggins’ eyes. The fair hobbit was beyond angry, not that it showed much on his face, but his eyes were slightly widened and Thorin could practically see the anger burning in those emerald green eyes. 

Thorin locked eyes with him and he could tell the hobbit was purposely restraining himself. He was taking consistent deep breathes and he looked tense and spring loaded. Thorin wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve the hobbit’s anger this time, but assumed it was because Master Baggins wasn’t expecting him to agree to a marriage.

“Well, that’s all well and good, but now we have to find someone who can match a dwarf king.” Someone timidly pointed out. 

Thorin realized his ambition might be his downfall. 

“Well, there’s got to be someone. There are plenty of spirited lasses in the Brandybuck and Took families.” Master Brandybuck assured. 

“They have the spirit, but they lack the influence. We need someone with significant power in the Shire.” Another corrected. 

“Not to mention someone who’s not already married, engaged, or . . . spoken for.” Master Proudfoot added mysteriously sending furtive glances at the dwarrow. 

“And someone relatively young. Dwarves live longer after all. We’ll be doing this all over again if we don’t pick someone who’ll be around for awhile.” Another pointed out. 

Thorin sighed. “It doesn’t have to be a lass.” He allowed. “Dwarrow are perfectly comfortable with unions between two males.” Master Baggins had finally stopped glaring murderously at him and had resuming drinking his tea with his eyes closed serenely. Or at least attempting for serene. The line of his shoulders was still tense. If Thorin were being completely honest, he could only think of one hobbit who was even remotely equally matched with himself. And he was sitting across the table from him . . . and glaring again. “Unless it is unacceptable among hobbits.” He hedged.

“It's not common, but it isn’t forbidden either.” The Thain answered.

“So.” Master Brandybuck drew out the vowel. “We need someone young.” He started in an attempt to help them narrow down their prospects.

“And available.” Another added. 

“And spirited! Someone who won’t be intimidated and who’s not afraid to face down an angry dwarf king.” Another added, a strange tone entering his voice as he spoke. “Someone . . who will protect hobbit interests.”

Thorin glanced around, picking up that there was some silent communication going on as the council shifted and started throwing around furtive glances. 

“Someone . . . with power in the Shire.” Master Brandybuck ended slowly, turning his gaze to stare at Master Baggins. 

The room went quiet as they all turned to stare at Master Baggins. Thorin groaned internally. Of course! Of course it had to be _that_ hobbit! The one who already hated him for Mahal knows why!

Master Baggins glanced around suspiciously as he was pinned with so many expectant gazes. “No.” He shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“You’re young enough.” Someone argued.

“No.”

“It’s obvious you’re not scared of ‘im and we all know how right stubborn you are.” Another added.

“No.” Master Baggins set his cup of tea down, still shaking his head stubbornly. 

“You’re on the council.” Another pointed out. “Grandson of the Thain and just as powerful.”

“No!”

“And you always do what’s best for the Shire, even if the rest of us don’t like it at first.” Master Brandybuck added. “Plus it makes sense if you’re gonna be in charge of the whole project. He can help you manage the dwarf side of things.” 

“No, no, no, no, no. No!” Master Baggins refused vehemently. “You expect to bind our peoples by marrying _me_ to _him_?! Are the lot of you insane?! If this meeting has shown you anything, it’s that we already can’t stand each other!”

“But you don’t get along with anyone, Master Baggins. Might as well marry for the benefit of the Shire.” Another retorted. “It’s what you do, isn’t it? You take care of the Shire?”

“I have done more for the sake of our people than all of you combined!” He snapped back, shooting to his feet and slamming his hands on the table. “Besides, he would never agree to it!” He gestured the the dwarf across from him. 

“I am willing . . . for my people’s sake.” Thorin sighed out. He was already resigned to his fate. There was even a small smugly satisfied part of him that reveled in being able to dominate this spirited halfling in some small way, even if it was only to trap him in an unwanted marriage. Though he suspected Master Baggins would find ways to make him suffer in return. Still, there was something undeniably thrilling about having a claim on the unruly spirit standing before him. 

Master Baggins gaped at him in disbelief. It quickly morphed to anger and a hint of something that Thorin was almost certain was betrayal. He must have expected Thorin to agree. 

“Well, I’m not!” He quickly recovered when the council began murmuring approvingly. “Why should I be the one to sacrifice the rest of my life in a miserable marriage for your ungrateful arses?!”

“You’re the best fit.” Master Brandybuck tried to cajole him. “You meet all of your requirements. And . . “ He trailed off, looking like he didn’t want to continue.

“And what?! Why me?!”

“Because you have no heartsong!” Master Bolger shouted back. “If you’re going to be miserable for the rest of your life, you might as well make use of it!”

The room went silent, the rest of the hobbit’s shifting and fidgeting anxiously, almost guiltily. Thorin glanced back to Master Baggins, expecting some venomous retort, but the young hobbit looked liked he'd been slapped. He looked shocked . . . and pained as he collapsed back into his chair. His fight was gone. He looked defeated . . . almost broken. Thorin didn’t like it. It didn’t suit the spirited hobbit. 

“Master Bolger!” The Thain stood angrily. “Another comment like that and I’ll have you removed from the council! You know the sanctity of heartsongs. The loss of one is not to be taken lightly or used as a weapon against one’s fellow hobbit!” 

Master Bolger looked chastised enough, as did the rest of the council even though they hadn’t been the ones to say it. The Thain sat back down. “Now. I agree that we should help the dwarves and that moving them into our Shire would be mutually beneficial. . . . And I also agree, against my feelings as a grandfather, that Master Baggins is the best fit for a marital union between our peoples.” 

Master Baggins had mostly recovered and was once again shaking his head. 

“However, he is my grandson, and neither I nor any of you will force him into a marriage against his will.” The Thain continued. “But I think you should consider it.” He aimed at His grandson. 

There was silence as Master Baggins stared at the table furiously, tapping his fingers against the wood. Thorin wasn’t sure if he was actually thinking about it or if he was just trying to contain his anger. “May I speak with you privately, grandfather?” He finally asked. The tight, clipped words revealing that Thorin’s second guess was the most likely. 

“Yes, of course. The study?” The Thain started to get up. Master Baggins shot up in one angry movement and nearly sent his chair skidding across the room when he angrily pushed it out of his way. He made it to the study first and Gerontius slid in behind him and closed the door. 

Thorin rubbed his hand over his face anxiously. They’d been fighting an uphill battle ever since stepping into the council room and now it all came down to the agreement of one hobbit. Even if the rest of the council agreed, He knew it wouldn’t work without Master Baggin’s consent to participate. The chances were slim before. Now, with a marriage tacked on to the deal, Thorin was pretty sure he already knew what the final verdict would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: The Council sits by apprehensively while Master Baggins erupts in his grandfather's study. The meeting is called to an abrupt postponement to be reconvened the following day to receive Master Baggins' final answer. After such an explosive outburst, can Thorin even hope for the best?


	3. The Verdict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~🎉🎉Happy New Year Everyone! 🎉🎉~~ 
> 
> To start the year off I've posted a bunch of updates for you. Enjoy!😊😊
> 
> Here's the first sneak peek for this year: ["Two Halves of a Single Soul"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921119/chapters/40208168). Here's the summary. 😄
> 
> "Bilbo is . . well, he's strange. His people have always been gifted with the earth, but for one of them to be born with blatant magic capabilities . . well it was unheard of! Hobbits commune with the earth but they certainly weren't magical. Magic was for wizards and elves and even some dwarves, not hobbits. So what was a lone magic infused hobbit to do but to seek out an old friend of his mother's in hopes that he could teach him to better harness his magic. And that was all well and good until his search brought him to the biggest anti-magic capital of the middle-earth. Not to mention he might have just made himself a giant whopping target to the crown prince of Erebor. But he was a hobbit, he could get about unseen well enough. Besides, it couldn't possibly get any worse, right?"
> 
> Thorin/Bilbo, Magic!Bilbo, Merlin!AU

The conference room was quite as they waited. The masters sat anxiously. Thorin sent Balin a defeated glance as he leaned back into his chair. There was no way Master Baggins as going to agree to a marriage, not with him. He didn’t know why, but it was clear the fair hobbit hated him. 

Balin returned the look sympathetically. They both knew the odds weren’t in their favor. 

The Thain’s wife bustled around offering fresh tea and more refreshments as they waited, but no one spoke above a whisper. She was constantly sending glances towards the study door. Thorin glanced around and realized that they were all listening. Just about every hobbit in the room had an ear aimed at the study. 

He didn’t have to wonder long as the voices in the study steadily rose until distinct shouting could be heard. Or rather _a_ voice and the higher, youthful tone made it perfectly clear whose it was. Master Baggins’ volume continued to rise until the round study door did little to dampen it. 

Finally, the Thain’s wife set her tray down with a clatter and rushed to the study. The shouting blared through the open door as she quickly slipped in and shut it behind her. Her presence seemed to only momentarily quiet the angry hollering before it started up again. 

Despite it sounding like it could be happening in the same very same room, Thorin found that he couldn’t make out any of what was being said. He listened closer and realized that whatever Master Baggins was saying, it wasn’t in Westron. Did the ~~half~~ -hobbits have their own language. A quick glance around showed that most of the council looked as confused as he felt about the content of vocal tirade. 

The hobbits started to shift and fidget uncomfortably as Master Baggins’ voice continued to gain volume and ferocity. Suddenly there was crash and the sound of shattering porcelain. A feminine scream passed through the door and several of the council shot up and dashed for the door. Even Thorin jumped from his seat on reflex. 

Master Brandybuck made it to the door first and rattled the nob. It was locked. “Gerontius! Adamanta!” He yelled through the door. “Are you all right?!”

“We’re Fine! Everything’s fine!” The Thain’s lower voice barely pushed through the door. “Stay out!” 

Thorin had wandered over, prepared to lend some dwarven muscle if it was needed. The shouting had stopped but he could hear low murmuring and the Thain’s wife sobbing on the other side. A shout sounded out in the hall and several moments later a stampede of hurried footsteps flooded the room behind the door. 

Raised voices and the sound of a scuffle were followed by mass exodus of footsteps. Within moments they were gone and the room fell quiet. “Gerontius?!” Master Brandybuck called again. 

A moment later the door unlocked and cracked open. The Thain slid out of the room, opening the door only as far as necessary to get through it but Thorin still caught a glance at the room behind him. Tables and chairs were overturned, a tea set shattered on the floor surrounded by the wet remains of the tea it had held. 

The sight gave him a chill. He had been witness to much violence in his lifetime, the attack of the dragon, war, combat, training sessions gone bad. Constructive aggression was normal among dwarrow and he had seen plenty of the less than constructive kind among men. But to witness such violence displayed by one from the most peaceful races in existence. It just felt wrong. 

Gerontius smoothed his waistcoat and straightened himself out, murmuring reassurances to those who had attempted to rush to his aid before returning to his seat at the table. He looked concerned and shaken. Thorin and the others respectfully returned to their seats as well.

“What happened?” One of the masters breathed out. 

The Thain cleared his throat. “I’m afraid the conclusion of our meeting will have to be postponed until tomorrow. Master Baggins . . . will not be rejoining us at the current time. I apologize for the inconvenience. Rooms will be provided for all of you. Meeting dismissed. We’ll resume tomorrow.” He promptly dismissed them before heading back to his study. 

The room filled with speculative murmurs as the Thain retreated, only Master Brandybuck followed after him. 

“Well, I’ve heard rumors of his foul temper. Never thought I’d see it in action.” One of the masters commented. 

“More like heard it in action. Still, I never imagined he’d get this . . . violent. It’s unhobbitish, is what it is.” Another added. 

“Ya sure ya want to marry _that_?” Another addressed Thorin as he raised from his seat.

“I will do what’s necessary for my people.” He replied evenly. Master Baggins’ behavior was unsettling, but hardly more than Thorin could handle. 

“Perhaps you should be more concerned with your own safety.” Another advised. 

Thorin wanted to scoff but wisely didn’t. “I’m quiet certain I can take care of myself. Thank you for your time masters of the council and for hearing out my proposal. I hope the matter will be resolved swiftly tomorrow, whether yay or nay, so that no more of your time will be wasted.” He glanced to each of the briefly and offered a respectful nod of his head before he and Balin escaped from the council room. 

“That could have gone better.” Balin commented unhelpfully once they were out in the hall. 

“I fear our answer has already been all but given. There’s no way Master Baggins will agree to a marriage to myself.” 

“Well, we should know for sure by tomorrow.” 

“So, how’d it go?” Dwalin asked the moment they entered their small set of rooms. 

“Terrible.” Thorin supplied as he marched in and collapsed in a chair. 

“I take it it was a no.” 

“Not quite.” Balin answered. “The hobbits are . . open to our arrangement but only as long as a very particular condition is met.”

“And what’s that?” 

Balin seated himself at their table with a sigh. “A uniting marriage between Thorin and one of their council members.”

“Ack! And ye said no, of course!” 

“I agreed.” Thorin rumbled quietly. 

“What?! Really? Than what’s the problem?”

“The council member that was deemed most suitable for the . . arrangement was . . strongly opposed.” Balin explained carefully. 

“What? A king ain’t good enough for 'im?!”

“He hates me.” Thorin supplied. “I’ve never even met him before.”

“Are ye sure?” Balin asked suspiciously. “His hostility was distinctly focused on you. It all seems a bit to . . specific. He even shut down that Master Bolger for speaking against us the way he did.” 

“Only to turn around and make the same accusations!” Thorin barked. He was beyond frustrated that the only obstacle between his people and their chance for a safe home was one ill-tempered brat of a halfling. 

“Aye, but his concerns were well founded. Master Baggins clearly has experience with dealing with social and community based issues, especially with morale and conflict.” Balin reasoned. “Master Bolger’s accusations were founded in ignorance and prejudice. Master Baggins has obviously factored in such issues as discontent and segregation.” 

Thorin sighed irritably. His motivations didn’t matter because the answer was going to be the same either way. 

“So, he said no then?” Dwalin redirected, still trying to get a proper answer. 

“Well . . .” Balin failed to answer so Thorin took over. “He did and threw himself a rather load and violent fit. The Thain’s put him in a time out until tomorrow. I assume he's meant to give us his official answer then. 

“Time out?! Is he a child?!”

“He certainly acts like one.” Thorin grumbled. 

“He is younger than the other council members, but he has held his position on the council for fifteen years already which is not a short amount of time for a hobbit, so he cannot be overly young.” Balin explained. “He is also one of the most influential members of the council and we will need his support for the arrangement to work.”

“He is a child throwing a tantrum.” Thorin snapped sourly. 

“Really, Thorin? He gains very little, if anything, by agreeing to this arrangement. What he does get is an unwanted marriage and a mountain-load of work. He may seem petty and dismissive to us, but we are asking him to pay for our misfortunes with the rest of his lifetime.” Balin scolded. 

Thorin’s foul temper evened slightly. It was true that Master Baggins didn’t stand to personally gain much, if anything, from the arrangement, nor did he have any reason to sacrifice himself for some distant group of dwarrow. Thorin’s reasons were personal and duty-bound. Master Baggins had no such motivations. “The tantrum was still unwarranted.” He groused quietly. 

Balin chuckled. “Yes, well, whose to say what he was raving about as not even most of the council members could understand what he was saying.”

“So, chances are we’ll be headed home with bad news tomorrow, I take it then.” Dwalin summarize, putting enough together to come to a conclusion. 

“Most likely.” Balin sighed and poured himself some tea from their service cart. 

~~~~~

Thorin and Balin headed for the council room. The council had been summoned with the hopes of bringing the meeting to a close. They filed into the room where many of the masters were already sitting and sipping at tea and aimed for their seats. With a quick glance around the room, Thorin spotted a head of dark blond curls. The Thain and his grandson were huddle at the far end of the room conversing quietly. 

Thorin took his seat, watching their exchange from the corner of his eye. Master Baggins seemed more in control of himself today at least. His shoulders were slumped as if he were being scolded and his head was shaking to different degrees almost constantly. He kept pressing a handkerchief over his nose. 

The last council member shuffled into the room and Gerontius patted his grandson on the shoulder before heading back to his seat. Master Baggins followed behind a few moments later, standing straighter and squaring his shoulders. He took his seat, keeping his eyes down on the table. 

Thorin studied him as the Thain reopened the meeting. He was deliberately avoiding eye contact and seemed far more docile than he had the day before. Thorin’s brows pulled together slightly. He also looked a bit pale. Thorin wondered what sort of restraining methods hobbits used and then wondered how in the world he came to be thinking about hobbits and restraining methods in the same context.

“Now, before we can go any farther with this meeting, either for or against this agreement between ourselves and the dwarves, we need to know if an arrangement can be made.” The Thain began. “Bilbo.” He addressed softly. “Would you care to give us your final answer concerning the proposed marriage between yourself and King Thorin of the dwarves of Erid Luin?” He sat down, not waiting for an affirmative. 

Bilbo shifted in his chair. He set an arm on the table, his finger tapping on the surface. He shifted again, both his hands on the table now. He continued to fidget, offering no answer. The other masters started murmuring, wondering what could be taking him so long to just say ‘no.’ 

Thorin watched him intently, a small glimmer of hope fighting for survival in his chest. He noted every twitch of the hobbit’s face, ever tightening around the eyes, every grimace, every fidget in his seat. Master Baggins was undecided or, at least very, reluctant to give his final answer. 

Master Baggins shifted again, leaning more heavily against the table on his elbows. A rapid rhythm of a bouncing leg under the table caused it to vibrate. No one said anything, everyone waiting and watching now as if anticipating something terrible and inevitable. 

The young hobbit leaned his head into his hands, his fingers burying into his curls and gripping them far too tightly. A small broken sound escaped him. 

Something tightened in Thorin’s chest and Balin's words came back to him. The hobbit was still so young and he was being asked to sell himself off for a people that weren’t even his. He was clearly in distress. Thorin didn’t know which answer Master Baggins was wrestling with but he didn’t like it. Protectiveness welled up in him and he was dangerously close to retracting the proposal just to ease this one hobbit’s stress. 

Suddenly someone shot to their feet and slammed their hands on the table, startling the whole council with the abrupt sounds. “That’s enough!” Master Brandybuck demanded. “That’s enough, Gerontius! He’s your grandson for Yavanna’s sake! This is too much!” His voice was laced with concern and sympathy. 

“This is his decision. You nor I will make it for him. That is what it means to be part of the council.” The Thain chided. 

“We should have never asked this of him!” Master Brandybuck shouted back angrily.

“I’ll do it.” A small whisper caught everyone’s attention. Bilbo’s face was in his hands and he rubbed his palms up to press into his eyes. 

“Bilbo. You don’t have to. You should never have had to make such a decision.” Master Brandybuck tried to assure, glaring at the Thain. 

“I’ll do it.” He repeated more firmly. His hands dropped down to the table and he nodded jerkily. “I’ll do it.” He continued to stare down at the table. There were no tears in his eyes, but they were tired, his shoulders were slumped in defeat. 

Thorin’s concern only eased slightly and, in the back of his mind, he still considered taking back the whole proposal, even if he knew he could never really do it. 

“Are you sure, Bilbo?” Gerontius asked gently. 

Bilbo leaned back into his seat with a sigh. “Yes.” He articulated distinctly with one lazy nod, his composure returning. 

“Very, well. Congratulations. It seems we will be able to move forward with your proposal.” Gerontius addressed the dwarves. Balin sat shocked with a undercurrent of excited energy breaking through, but Thorin couldn’t take his eyes off the hobbit sitting across from him, Master Baggins, his new betrothed, his future husband. “We are most grateful.” He answered almost monotone, eyes still locked on the hobbit. 

The Thain continued, ushering them into the next phase of the discussion, but Thorin wasn’t really listening. He couldn’t believe Master Baggins had agreed. After his absolute refusal, after the outright temper tantrum from yesterday, after the clear torment of making the decision, why? Why did he agree?

Bilbo sat silently, his arms crossed and staring down at the table. Thorin couldn't take his eyes off him. Slowly the hobbit's eyes wandered up to meet his. They were cold and blank, but for a split second, Thorin saw hurt and sorrow fill them. A blink later and it was gone and Master Baggins eyes were cast down unto the table again. 

Thorin almost felt guilty for requesting the aid that put this particular hobbit into such a difficult situation. But not enough to abandon his people to their fate.

"Now that we know that an arrangement can be worked out between us, we'll need to work together and write a-" The Thain was interrupted when Master Baggins fished a folded stack of papers from his jacket and plopped them onto the table in front of him. "What is this?" He wondered, pulling out a pair of spectacles and unfolding the stack. He scanned the first page and turned to his grandson in surprise. "You already wrote it? The whole contract?! When did you have the time to-"

"I couldn't sleep last night." Master Baggins shrugged. "No point in wasting hours of sleeplessness."

The Thain snapped something irritably that Thorin couldn't understand and which earned him a defiant little brow shrug from his grandson. 

"It's just a rough draft. I'm sure you'll want to add some things and . . " he pursed his lips as is struggling over the next words. "Master Thorin," he pushed out through gritted teeth, "and his adviser will want to add some things as well. But this is the essential skeleton of the contract. I strongly advise that none of what is currently written be removed. Modifications can be discussed with me." He explained as the Thain skimmed through the pages.

"This is quite exhaustive." Gerontius commented in mild awe of the considerable stack of papers, all handwritten in Bilbo's elegant curling script.

Bilbo leaned forward and jabbed his finger on the table roughly. "I demand to review and approve any and all proposed drafts! I'm the one paying for this bloody contract and I absolutely refuse to sign it if I find anything unacceptable in it!"

"Of course, Bilbo. I wouldn't ask you to sign a contract you aren't comfortable with."

"No, you'd just ask me to agree to a marriage that I'm not comfortable with!" Bilbo snapped back bitterly.

"Bilbo!" The Thain rebuked a little firmer than usual.

Master Baggins stood up and shoved his chair away. "I am warning you, Gerontius." His voice lowered threateningly, dropping all respectful titles. "I will sooner drown myself in the Brandywine before I sign this contract if I there is anything in it that I don't approve." The Thain's eyes widened in shock. "And, just so you know, I'm not signing that," he pointed to the stack of papers, "until the marriage contract is also written and passes my approval. I will not be trapped into anything!" 

The council stared at him gobsmacked. He straightened his jacket and pushed his chair back in. "Now, if you'll excuse me I have more important things to do than sit around and listen to you lot plan my future like it has nothing to do with you." He spat out bitterly before turning and swiftly making for the door, slamming it behind him as he left.

The entire room was silent in his wake and the Thain looked more than a little shaken. Thorin suspected the threat of self-harm was intended as more of a statement to Master Baggins' commitment to not sign something he didn't agree with than an actual intention to off himself if he didn't like something in the contract, but it was a hollow knowledge even for him. Arranged or not, Master Baggins was now his intended and he could admit (to himself anyway) that he was rather fascinated by the spirited little hobbit. He certainly didn't wish any harm on him and not just because the success of whole arrangement depended on him.

Someone broke the silence by clearing their throat. "Well, perhaps we should get this started since it may take some time to get through that whole stack _and_ get Master Baggins' approval." Master Boffin suggested.

The council members seem to shake themselves from their stupor and nods and murmurs of agreements spread around the table. 

"Right." Gerontius composed himself. "Well then, shall we begin?" He asked and started reading the opening address of the contract. 

Thorin did his best to focus on the matters at hand but kept finding his mind wandering off to the beautiful (if angry) green eyes of his new betrothed. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something, but, try as he might, he couldn't recall ever meeting the hobbit before. Fortunately, Balin was on top of the discussion and Thorin left most of the term negotiation to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Thorin attends a private meeting in the Thain's office to discuss the marriage contract and overhears a private spat. The Thain lays a few expectations on him before his intended even gets there. Finally his future husband arrives and then the real headache begins.


	4. The Marriage Contract

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Chapters! The majority votes were for ["Once again"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748423/chapters/51886003) and ["Song of my Heart!"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21739435/chapters/51861838) So enjoy these bonus release chapters in celebration of 200 subscribers to my Ao3 profile!
> 
> Opportunities to vote for bonus chapter releases will occasionally pop up on my [tumblr](https://domesticgoddesswriter.tumblr.com) in celebration of milestones and such. I post more regularly over there so be sure to check once in a while for chances to vote. 😊

Thorin made his way back to the Thain’s study. The council had made it through the contract relatively quickly considering its length, having little to add to it other than little additions here and there. The most controversial section had been about the involvements and requirements of the family heads in regards to the entire endeavor. The Thain had quickly squashed any complaints stating that their contribution was negligible compared to Bilbo’s. 

Even Thorin and Balin couldn’t think of much to add. Despite their expectations, Master Baggins had been quite thorough in his consideration of dwarrow needs and expectations for their side of the contract and had not asked anything of them besides what they agreed was only appropriate for their part of the arrangement. 

Indeed, Thorin had found himself once again impressed by the young hobbit’s skills. The meeting had concluded before supper time (by hobbit reckoning) and the contract sent to Master Baggins to be reviewed. 

Now he was on his way to the Thain’s office to put together the marriage contract in hope that both contracts could be finalized and signed the next day, finally drawing the three day meeting to a close as the council members were already complaining about the length of it. 

He approached the Thain’s study, slowing his steps when he picked up raised voices. If Master Baggins was already worked up, this would be one headache of a meeting. To his surprise, the primary raised voice was distinctly feminine and not the smooth tenor he had been expecting. 

He stopped outside the door, sharing a sympathetic glance with the young hobbit posted outside, to await his turn. 

“How dare you do this to my boy, Gerontius Took?!” The feminine voice rang out. “He is our grandson! Not some some asset to be traded when it suits your purposes!”

A domestic spat then, Thorin mused. Obviously the Thain’s wife was not in agreement with the council’s decision.

“He is _our_ boy, Ada! He is as dear to me as he is to you! Do you think I’m pleased by this arrangement?! Do you think I enjoy putting all this on him?!”

“Then why didn’t you put a stop to it?! You’re the bloody Thain, for Yavanna’s sake! You could have never let this responsibility fall on him!”

“And ignore the dwarve's plea for aid?! We are not the big folk, Ada! If someone comes to us in need, we do what we can! That has been the council’s policy for generations, even more so since Bungo’s time in office!”

“But why Bilbo?! Why must _he_ be the one to carry the weight of it all?! He does so much already!”

“He is the Head of the Baggins family! His influence is even greater than mine in the council when he wishes it to be! His influence spreads throughout the entire Shire! These are things he worked for! Things he chose! I tried to dissuade him from taking the mantle of master! He is what he is today because he worked for it! He chose it! I cannot save him from his own ambition, Ada! He chose to be what he has become and now he must face the responsibilities that come with it!”

“Then what good are we?!” She screamed wetly and Thorin wondered if he should come back later. “We are his grandparents! All but parents to him after Bungo and Bella died! We should be taking care of him, not letting him sacrifice himself for our sake!” She shrieked. “What good are we?!” She began to sob. 

Thorin cleared his throat, feeling like he was eavesdropping on something personal. The door boy across from him looked to be feeling the same. The voices quieted and there were only murmurs and an occasional sob making it through the door now. He once again wondered if he should just come back later. 

Just as he was about to leave, the door opened. Adamanta let herself out, her eyes were red rimmed but she seemed to have regained most of her composure. She stuck her nose up at him and gave him a disdainful glare as she walked by. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to be in her good graces anytime soon.

The hobbit posted outside the door popped his head in and announced Thorin, swinging the doors open wider upon the Thain’s permission. Gerontius was standing near his desk, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Come in, Master Thorin.” He greeted. “I apologize for any wait. I wasn’t expecting an undressing from my wife this evening.” He sighed out. 

“No apologies needed. I understand that we’ve put your family in a difficult position.”

The Thain huffed a humorless laugh. “Have a seat.” He ordered and Thorin obeyed. “As you can see, Bilbo won’t be joining us just yet. Despite my wife’s accusations and my general agreement with your proposal, I am not particularly fond of this marriage arrangement.” He admitted. 

“I understand.” Thorin assured. He would expect no less if the Thain and his wife considered Master Baggins more like a son. 

“Good. Then you’ll understand that I have a few contractual agreements of my own to add to your marriage contract.”

“Of course.” Thorin nodded slowly, wondering what he would want to add. 

“Good. Then let’s get down to business. First off, I will not tolerate any violent, manipulative, or abusive behavior from you in this marriage.”

“From me!?” Thorin couldn’t help state his disbelief. If anyone it should be Master Baggins being required to sigh a non-violence agreement.

“Yes. Despite his foul temper, untamable spirit and stubbornly strong will, anyone can see that, between the two of you, he is at the physical disadvantage. He may be the best strategist in the Shire, but he is no warrior. If I get wind of any sort of abusive behavior, violence, harm to his person, or manipulation through the threat or use of force, I promise you, not only will you find yourself booted from the Shire faster than you can say domestic violence, but you will also find it distinctly hostile to your people for the foreseeable future.” Gerontius warned. 

“I have no intention to use any such methods on your grandson. Dwarrow are not prone to domestic violence in general and as I am greatly dependent on him for this arrangement between our people to work, it would be distinctly against my interests to treat him so dishonorably.” Thorin tried to assure, using something he knew held weight, his investment, over the immeasurable standard of his honor. 

“So you say now, but Bilbo is not the easiest person to deal with, nor does he possess the same motivation to make this marriage successful. The weight of the success of this marriage rests on you, and he will make it difficult. He _will_ frustrate you, anger you, make you wonder if putting up with him is even worth everything you are working for. And he will not care because he has nothing to lose.”

Gerontius paused and wandered over to the hearth in his study. “Bilbo is very good at pushing people away.” He sighed, bracing himself against the stone. “The harder you try to get close to him, the more he will try to push you. You may consider one of the before mentioned methods to . . deal with it. I. Will not. Have it.” He ended firmly. 

“I’m already aware of his feelings on our marriage. I’m not particularly anticipating much cooperation.” Thorin assured. At this point, he felt they’d be doing well if they could just avoid screaming at each other every hour.

“Good. There is one more important thing I will require from you in this marriage.” Gerontius continued. “Arranged or not, you will be married, husbands, spouses, and with such titles come certain . . responsibilities.”

Thorin raised a brow, uncertain of where the Thain was going with the thought. 

“Bilbo is notoriously terrible at taking care of himself. He lives alone and chases away anyone who tries to involve themselves in his space with the exception of a few who have proven themselves impossible to drive off, much to his annoyance.” The Thain chuckled. “We worry about him.” He sighed. “I expect you to care for him, see to his needs like you would the love of your life, or, at the very least, someone you actually wanted to marry.”

“I will do my best as any dwarf with honor would.” 

“You will answer to me. No matter how much he fights you, I expect you to make an effort to care for him. You will have help. There are a few hobbits who have learned to withstand his temper and care enough about him to do so regularly, but their reach is limited. They will not have the advantage of your position. If he suffers even passively under your care, I will hold you accountable.” Gerontius assured. 

“Forgive me for saying so, but that sounds a bit . . excessive.” Thorin addressed cautiously. "He hates me. You've said yourself that he's going to resist any attempts on my part to nurture the marriage. Am I to be held solely accountable for the success or failure of our marriage?" Was he to receive any assurance that Bilbo would even attempt to make the marriage work? It surely didn’t sound like it. 

“Yes.” The Thain answered without hesitation. He continued before Thorin could voice his complaints. “Bilbo is taking the future and welfare of your people onto his shoulders. The least you can do is carry the weight of him and this marriage!” He barked out. “Do not ask him to carry such a burden if you are not willing to carry the weight of a single hobbit!” He started pacing in front of the hearth in agitation. 

“Also, _you_ are the senior in this marriage! He is still young! I expect you to have the maturity to foster the best marriage possible despite his attempts to thwart it!” Gerontius scolded passionately.

Thorin held his tongue. The Thain had a point. He wasn’t sure exactly what a hobbit’s lifespan was but he knew it was significantly less than a dwarf’s. Even the Thain himself was likely younger than Thorin which would mean Master Baggins was . . . probably uncomfortably young. Perhaps it would be best for him not to inquire too much into his age. He couldn’t be that young. After all, he was a member of the council, had been for fifteen years. But younger than Thorin? Most definitely. So, the Thain’s demands were completely valid. 

“You make a valid point.” Thorin nodded. “It’s not uncommon for guardians to make similar demands when marrying a younger family member to an older partner. I assure you I will watch over his health and welfare to the best of my ability.”

“Yes, you will. Or I will consider you in breach of the contract.” Gerontius agreed. “And everything you will have worked for will come to a screeching halt.” He further warned. 

Thorin nodded in consent and the Thain seemed to relax slightly. It was a simple enough requirement. After all, how hard could it be to watch over one hobbit?

There was a soft knock on the door and Gerontius called them in as he wandered back to his desk. Adamanta sauntered in with Master Baggins behind her. Thorin respectfully stood as they entered. 

“Bilbo. How are you feeling this evening? Better I hope.” Gerontius greeted, taking his seat. Thorin gave Adamanta a respectful nod and tried to do the same for his betrothed, but Master Baggins wouldn’t even offer a glance in his direction.

Master Baggins ignored the question and marched up to his desk as his grandmother stepped to the side. He plopped a stack of papers onto the Thain’s desk. “So?” Gerontius prompted.

“I made some minor adjustments, terminology, clarification and such. Little things that could turn into big legal issues. But, otherwise, it’s acceptable, or, at least, as acceptable as it’s going to get.”

“Excellent! I’ll send it to the scribe in the morning to have it finalized and we can sign it tomorrow evening. Have a seat.” Gerontius waved him to the chair beside Thorin. 

He took it without so much as a glance or nod to the dwarf and Thorin suppressed a sigh as he took his own seat once more.

“Ada?” The Thain voiced curiously.

“I will be staying as his guardian representative.” She insisted. “I’m here to ensure his interests are represented fairly in this contract.” 

“I am his grandfather, Ada.”

“You are the Thain!” She cut him off before he could add anything else. “I cannot trust you to put his interests before those of the Shire.”

Gerontius’s chin dipped slightly in consent, possibly simply not wanting to square off against his wife again. Master Baggins looked disinterested and unconcerned. 

“Very well.” The Thain began. “As hobbits do not have marriage contracts, I thought it best to begin with a dwarven marriage contract and modify it to our purposes. Balin was generous enough to transcribe me a translated version from which to work off.” He pulled out a rolled up piece of paper. 

Bilbo was instantly at attention and stood up, holding out a demanding hand for the paper. 

“I thought you might want to read it.” Gerontius handed it over indulgently. 

Bilbo snatched it up and started reading it, pacing slowly in front of the hearth. 

“I had of course already written out my additions to the contract, if you would care to read them over.” The Thain handed a separate piece of paper to Thorin. He took it and read over it carefully. It was a more detailed and official statement of what the Thain had already impressed upon him, but essentially the same. He handed it back with a nod of consent. 

“Did you have any conditions of your own to add to the contract?”

“I have a few, yes.” Thorin pulled out a folded paper of his own to present. Bilbo had been murmuring quietly and he suddenly stopped, squawking something in hobbitish. 

“This is ridiculous! I wouldn’t sign this piece of trash if I was captured by orcs, fed an immortality serum and tortured for all eternity!” He balled up the paper angrily and threw it into the fire.

“Bilbo Baggins! That was the only copy!” Gerontius scolded. Thorin was speechless. 

“Thank goodness and good riddance!” Bilbo snapped back. “I could write a better contract than that in my sleep!” 

“Well then!” Gerontius stepped away from his chair. “Be my guest!” He gestured to his seat with the challenge. 

Bilbo stopped his pacing to turn to his grandfather, scoffing and marching over to do just that.

Master Baggins sat, pulled out his spectacles, and fished out some paper and ink, looking perfectly at home at the Thain’s desk. 

Gerontius smirked softly as he watched his grandson waste no time in getting to work. He turned back to Thorin. “What conditions would you like considered?” He worded carefully. 

Thorin cleared his throat, knowing full well his was not going to be the priority input. “I have a few requests for the contract.” He swallowed his pride. He’d been doing that a lot lately. “My first is for contractual fidelity.” 

All three hobbit’s stared at him, though Bilbo’s was only a glance. “Are you implying my grandson would behave so indecently?!” Adamanta gasped in outrage. “Would besmirch his own name in such a way?!” Gerontius raised an expectant brow. 

“I am not implying that he would or wouldn’t. As it is an arranged and . . . undesired marriage,” he cast a glance to his intended, “there may be a higher . . temptation to . . seek intimacy elsewhere.” He explained as delicately as possible. “I simply ask for it to be specifically stated that infidelity by either side will not be permitted . . to prevent either side from being humiliated in such a way.” 

Adamanta still looked disgusted but Gerontius nodded. “A mutual promise of fidelity should hardly be a problem, I should think. Bilbo?” 

Master Baggins hummed noncommittally, his hand never pausing. 

“I take that as an agreement.” Gerontius replied. “What else?” 

“There is also the, uh, matter of . . consummation.” He cleared his throat, feeling just a little out of his depth discussing his future sexual relations with their grandson. 

Gerontius’s brow reached new heights and Adamant looked distinctly disturbed. But perhaps the most disconcerting was the brief but homicidal glance from his intended himself. 

“Oh, well, that, uh, that shouldn’t be necessary, I should think.” Adamant ventured. “It’s just an arranged marriage after all and for political reasons at that! There’s no reason to force a . . physical union in the lack of mutual interest!” She tried to reason. 

“I’m afraid I must insist.” He corrected carefully. He wished he could agree with her, but the nature of their marriage did make it necessary. 

“And why is that?” The Thain probed, a tone of suspicion lacing his voice. 

Thorin cleared his throat, doing his best to not appear threatening in any way. “Dwarrow marriage contracts are not consider binding without consummation. Because this marriage was arranged and is the foundation of a much larger contract that will affect the entirety of both our people groups, we cannot afford to have any . . doubt as to the legitimacy of our marriage and thus our contract.”

“And how is such a thing meant to be confirmed?!” Adamanta asked scandalized. “Do you expect an audience as well?!”

“That is not happening!” Master Baggins interjected. “I will not be probed, examined or observed for any such activities!”

“That will not be necessary.” Thorin hurried to reassure. “My people trust me. If I can report the marriage as consummated, they will accept my word on it. But I will not lie to them. They trust me for good reason.” 

“I don’t like it, Ger.” Adamanta made her opinion clear. “Certainly an exception can be made for this situation!”

“I’m afraid my people would not acknowledge the contact if that were to be the case.” Thorin admitted. 

Master Baggins’ pen slowed to a stop and he rubbed a hand over his face. “He’s right.” He groaned. “We can’t afford to have any doubt toppling all our, all _my_ hard work. Consummation is granted but I want a grace period of two weeks for its completion.” He bargained as if it were some mere trade transaction. 

“Two weeks? Wouldn’t it be best to just get it over with?” Thorin wondered, a little surprised that his betrothed had agreed with him at all. 

“I have a lot of work to do! I'll be exhausted from wedding arrangements. Harvest season is starting, which also means the harvest festival and the final sprint to prepare for winter. I have my regular work to do and I have to start planning for this mountain sized project you’ve dropped on top of all of that! Forgive me if I’m not up to being your bed partner right out of the marriage gate!”

“Fine.” Thorin consented, feeling a bit daunted himself by the hobbit’s workload. “But three days should be enough.”

“Three?!” Bilbo shrieked back. His grandparents had wisely chosen to sit this one out and watch the two bicker. “Fifteen days!”

“That’s _more_ than two weeks!” Thorin returned exasperated. 

“Well you’re infuriating!” Master Baggins shot to his feet to snap back. “It may take me that long to put up with you in close proximity for any length of time!”

“Put up with me?!” Thorin rose to his feet, accepting the challenge. “You’re the one being bloody difficult! Once it’s done, it’s done! Why drag it out? Five days!” He counter offered again, somewhat expecting his future husband to snap back with an even higher number than before.

“You’re the one who wanted this blasted marriage in the first place!” Bilbo shouted back. “One week then! I will not go any lower!” He slammed his palm on the desk. 

“Fine! One week! And I want it in the contract!”

“Fine!” “Fine!” They each spit out before taking their seats, glaring at each other for a few extra moments for good measure. 

“Yavanna have mercy.” Gerontius muttered, rubbing at his eyes and the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Well.” Adamanta broke the glaring silence. “This is going to be interesting.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time:


	5. The Wedding Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone's still okay out there! Here! Have some more reading material. 😁
> 
> I finally have a new Sneak Peek for you! Here is: [Little Orc Prince](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921119/chapters/56076232). Summary Below.
> 
> _The free peoples of middle-earth have been waging war against Azog and his forces for nearly thirty years and Prince Thorin leads the armies of Erebor on the front line. For twenty years, he has pushed back the orcs and goblins of the Misty Mountains, working with the other free kings to keep their territories from meeting the same fate as the desolated lands west of the mountains. They unite to launch a surprise attack only to be met by the overwhelming forces of the notorious 'Little Orc Prince' as the soldiers have named him, a tiny, high ranking general in Azog's army. The attack fails and Thorin finds himself taken captive and added to the Orc Prince's collection of dwarrow slaves. He has sworn vengeance on the general and is prepared to do whatever it takes to slay the miniature orc. However, as his time as a slave continues, he discovers that the tiny creature isn't even an orc at all. His resolve for revenge wavers as he comes to learn the true nature of the Little Orc Prince and their unbreakable connection. Will he choose to fight for his freedom and return to his people or embrace a barbaric way of life to stay with the other half of his soul?_
> 
> Thorin/Bilbo, Orc Boss!Bilbo, Slave!Thorin, Soul Marks

Thorin paced the room slowly, rolling his shoulders to stretch after having sat for too long. After hours of bickering, consulting, and coordinating the marriage contact was finally almost done. He cracked his neck and sighed tiredly. He was getting tired of meetings. 

The hobbits weren’t faring any better. Gerontius sipped at some tea while his wife prepared a fresh pot and tried to cajole her grandson into eating something. Master Baggins, however, looked by far the worse off. He was looking terribly pale and his eyes were drooping behind his cute little spectacles as if threatening to close altogether, yet his pen continued to flow easily over the paper. 

Every once in a while, he would pause and hold his handkerchief, a deep red on today, over his nose. Thorin was beginning to suspect it was some kind of habit or coping mechanism. The more tired he got, the more often he did it. 

Master Baggins set down his quill and took off his spectacles in order to rub his hand so over his tired eyes. “I need food . . or sleep . . possibly both.” He murmured sluggishly. 

“I’ve been trying to feed you!” Adamanta flapped her arms in exasperation. 

Bilbo made a disgusted face at whatever sweet dessert was sitting in front of him. “I need real food. Why is everything to try to shove down my throat covered or filled with sugar?”

“You're too thin! You need the energy.”

“I need something that’s not going to make me crash in a couple hours.” He rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. 

“Well, we did miss dinner. I’ll go have them bring us a meal, then.” Adamanta offered far too cheerfully. 

“What? No! I don’t want-“ The door clicked shut behind her before Bilbo could argue further. He heaved a put upon sigh. 

“How’s it coming?” Gerontius hovered over his grandson’s shoulder. 

“It’s almost done. My eyes just don’t want to stay open.”

“Why don’t you go rest your eyes until Ada gets back. I’ll finish it up.” Gerontius patted the younger hobbit on the shoulder. 

Master Baggins gave him a dubious look. 

“I’m the Thain, Bilbo. I’ve been writing contracts since before you were born.” Gerontius assured. “It might not look as pretty as yours, but it’ll function well enough.”

Bilbo rubbed his face one more time and slowly stood up. Gerontius grabbed his arm before he could get too far. “Have you slept since you arrived?”

“A bit.” Bilbo shook him off and shuffled over to a lounge chair in front of the hearth, ignoring his grandfather’s disapproving stare. He collapsed heavily into the chair and pulled his feet up. He stopped moving almost as soon as he settled. He was out so fast Thorin would have missed it if he’d blinked. 

He wandered closer as quietly as his dwarven boots would let him to gaze down on his intended. He looked even more fea-like in his sleep, despite his pale color and the dark bruises under his eyes. With the lines of stress and irritation smoothed from his face, he looked so young and almost ethereal with his soft rounded features and those pointed ears sticking out of his unruly curls. 

He lay with his head turned towards the fire, his arms loosely crossed over his middle. His jacket was open, showing off his fancy little waistcoat. A spark of possessiveness came to life in the back of Thorin’s mind. This was going to be his, his husband. Perhaps it wouldn’t be So bad. He could have been stuck with someone far less attractive. Surely, they could work things out. 

“Poor boy works too hard.” Gerontius mumbled from where he continued to scratch away at the contract, breaking Thorin from his thoughts. 

“I’m beginning to see that.” Thorin rumbled back quietly. 

“Not good for him. He’ll burn out one of these days.” Gerontius continued. 

Thorin gave his future husband one more appreciative glance and turned back to the Thain. “And I am to prevent that.” He stated more than asked. 

“To the best of your ability.” The Thain agreed. “But he is a stubborn boy. It won’t be easy.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that as well.” Thorin sighed, glancing back towards the occupied chair.

Gerontius chuckled. “You two are quite well fitted for each other in that respect. Perhaps, you’re better suited for each than you think.” He glanced up with a smirk.

Thorin gave him an unimpressed brow. It was true to some degree. The hobbit displayed some very interesting qualities, very . . . Dwarf-ish qualities, but he was still a hobbit. “Good luck convincing him of that.” He doubted his betrothed would agree. 

Gerontius let out a dry chuckle. “Wish it for yourself. That’s your job, after all.”

“Right.” Thorin sighed. His hobbit may have the stubbornness of a dwarf, but he was fairly certain that handling him like a dwarf would be a terrible idea. In fact, he wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with him. As king, the only person who was close enough to his status to challenge him was his sister and he quite often opted to just let her have her way. 

An option he couldn’t afford if he was responsible for this hobbit’s welfare. At least, Dis could take care of herself. He ran a hand through his hair. He sincerely hoped they would be able to achieve some level of cooperation or this was going to be a very long and miserable marriage . . . or he and his people would get kicked out of the Shire and be back to square one. Unfortunately, the latter seemed more likely at this point. 

He wandered the room quietly, lost in his own thoughts while the Thain scratched away on paper and his defiant future spouse remained passed out on his chair. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when there was a soft knock at the door and Adamanta returned with a train of hobbitesses behind her carrying trays of food and tableware. 

“I’m back.” She sang, directing her followers to set up the table with a wave of her hand. “Where’s Bilbo?” She asked after a quick scan of the room. “If he took off before I could feed him, I’m gonna-“

Thorin cleared his throat loudly to interrupt her, pointing to the lounge chair when she glared at him. She marched over, stopping when she saw her grandson sprawled out asleep.

“Aww! Ger, you got him to rest.”

“It was that or watch him pass out over my desk. Even he knew how close he was coming to it.”

“He’s so beautiful when he’s sleeping.” She cooed indulgently. “He looks so much younger without all those worry lines in his face.” She sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to wake him, but he needs to eat.”

“It’s just as well.” Gerontius stood up with a groan. “He needs to sleep in a proper bed anyway. Perhaps he’ll rest tonight with the contracts finished.”

“Oh, you know better, Ger. He always has something to work on, that boy.” Ada returned with a 'tsk'.

The hobbitesses finished laying out the table as Gerontius wandered over and filed out to let them eat in peace. 

“Well, I suppose I should wake him.” She started over to do just that. 

“Let me.” Gerontius caught her arm and pulled her back. “Just in case.” He assured, patting her arm. 

She nodded and returned to the table. 

Thorin tried to watch without looking like he was too interested as the Thain walked around to the other side of the chair and squatted down to wake his grandson. Were they concerned he would lash out? That didn’t seem appropriate for a hobbit who had never seen war or combat.

“Bilbo, my boy. It's time to wake up.” Gerontius shook him lightly, shaking him slightly harder when he didn’t respond. 

Master Baggins’s head rolled and he mumbled something that Thorin assumed was hobbitish before lifting his head tiredly and rubbing his eyes. 

“Food’s here, son.” Gerontius patted his shoulder as his grandson fought to fully awaken before getting up to return to the table.

He mumbled a reply and followed after a few seconds, being sure to straighten his vest and jacket as he did so. He ran a careless hand through his curls to unflatten them. Thorin found it a rather . . alluring motion but knew his interest would likely be doused as soon as his betrothed opened his mouth. 

Thorin took a seat with a gestured invitation from the Thain. It was a small table with only four chairs and he again found himself sitting across from the fae-like hobbit. He fought to suppress a smirk when the said hobbit didn’t even get to prepare his own plate, his grandmother quickly commandeering it and filling it to the brim before returning it. He didn’t look particularly pleased with it. 

They ate in silence for a while. If Thorin had learned anything about hobbits in his short stay, it was they they were masters (and mistresses) of food. The growing of it, the preparing to it, and, especially, the eating of it. Every dish was succulent and bursting with mouth watering flavors . . . and filling. It wasn’t some watery soup or soggy bread, made to make the most of limited resources. Every dish was overflowing with substance. 

The first meal he had been served he couldn’t believe the amount of wasted food that was set before him. He quickly learned that not a bit of it was wasted. His first meal dined with hobbits proved that they wasted very little as most of the dishes were all but licked clean. It was . . shocking. And they ate up to seven times a day, he’d noticed! If he had been told how much the little people ate before his visit, he was sure he would have laughed in the poor messenger's face.

This meal was no exception . . mostly. The Thain and his wife clearly had healthy hobbitish appetites, but their grandson seemed to be a separate matter entirely as he picked and nibbled at his food, barely denting the heaping portions that his grandmother had served him. He seemed to be eating more bread than anything. 

Thorin had also realized that his . . less demanding appetite was seen as unhealthy, resulting in the hobbitesses constantly offering him more to eat despite him having already stuffed himself as much as he could bear to not appear ungrateful. He wondered if his were being compared to the eating habits of those like his betrothed, who clearly had an unhealthy disregard for food by their standards. 

Thorin was the first to finish, despite his attempts to eat slowly so as to not finish too soon. Fortunately, the others weren’t far behind him, having cleaned their plates and most of the table, save for Master Baggins who simply pushed away his still mostly loaded plate when he was done. His grandmother tutted at him but didn’t push the matter. At least, Master Baggins looked a little better for the meal. 

He was more alert and his skin had regained some of its color. He poured himself another cup of tea as Adamanta started to clear the table. “Is it done?” 

“Just about.” The Thain set his own tea cup down with a satisfied sigh. “Just one more item to wrap up.”

“And that is?” Thorin wondered in slight exasperation. He had thought they were done,

“The wedding, of course!” Adamanta gushed excitedly. 

Bilbo groaned and buried his face in his hand. 

“Wedding? Isn’t the marriage contract enough?” 

The Thain and his wife both stared at him, the latter looking scandalized. “Of course not! There has to be a proper wedding!”

“Do dwarves not have weddings?” Gerontius wondered. 

“Not really, no. We may have a public or witnessed signing of the contract and a feast but no ceremony like those of men.” He explained. 

“Well, hobbit’s have weddings! And they are very large affairs, this one even more so since Bilbo is a family head. Besides, this marriage represents the union between our peoples. It needs to witnessed by the masses.” She reasoned. 

Bilbo groaned again, his face now buried in both his hands. “She’s right.” He groaned unhappily. 

“So we need a date.” She continued pleasantly. “Obviously the earliest we can have it is in three weeks, but six weeks is the proper forewarning expected.”

“Six weeks!” Thorin exclaimed. “Fall will be well upon us by then! The arrangement cannot proceed without the marriage being consummated! By then, winter will be right around the corner! We cannot wait that long! Can we not have a small public ceremony?”

“No! The earliest we can do is three weeks. We might as well prepared a proper wedding.” Adamanta denied. 

“Why not sooner? The contracts will already be signed.” Thorin asked baffled. 

“It doesn’t matter. I will begin preparations for the arrangement immediately.” Bilbo interrupted. “Three weeks should be just long enough for you to send for some more of your kin to witness the marriage and preparations for once the marriage is official will already be underway. There should be no significant delay in the arrangement.”

Thorin eyed him before deciding to take his word on it. He gave a short nod of acceptance that was ignored anyway. He didn’t much care how the marriage happened as long it didn't interfere or delay the help for his people. 

Adamanta suddenly gasped and clapped her hands. “A birthday wedding!” 

Bilbo leaned back into his chair with a pained groan. “No! Mam! Are you trying to torture me?!”

“It’s perfect and so traditional! No one has birthday weddings anymore! It will be the biggest party of the year!”

“There’s a reason no one has them!” Her grandson argued. “Because they’re torture! Everyone expects the full benefits of both! No one in their right mind would want a birthday wedding!”

“It’s perfect.” She insisted. “The entire Shire will be there! It will be the wedding to beat for years to come!” She gushed excitedly.

Bilbo dropped his head onto the table with a groan of frustration. Thorin took a sip of his tea, wisely choosing to keep his nose out of this debate.

“It is the soonest we can have the wedding, it gives us time to prepare, and it prevents any unnecessary delays for the contract. It does seem the best answer.” Gerontius added his input. 

“Just because we have the wedding on my birthday doesn’t mean we have to have a birthday wedding!” Bilbo argued. “I hate birthdays!”

“But it _is_ your birthday so everyone will be expecting it.” Adamanta reasoned. “And what better way to get everyone out for the ceremony?”

“I frankly don’t care if they come or not! I hate weddings! This one is just a necessary evil! It’s not my fault if someone chooses not to come and miss the whole significance of it!” Bilbo argued back.

His grandmother tutted at him. “You hate any kind of social gathering.” She dismissed. 

“Exactly! So why are you trying to torture me by making me host the ‘biggest party of the year?’ And be the center of attention for it?! I hate that! I hate all of it! I hate catering to greedy gossip mongers!” He slapped the table animatedly in his disgust.

“Bilbo.” She chided him. “You said yourself this wedding is important.”

He groaned and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “And who’s going to have to plan it all?! Me! That’s who! I have enough on my plate without having to add a bloody birthday wedding the size of the whole Shire to it!”

“He has a point, Ada. Perhaps something smaller would be better.” Gerontius took up his grandson’s case. 

“Of course, he does! A party this big will take weeks of planning and arranging. It would be near impossible for him to do it all himself.” She readily agreed. “Which is why I’ll be going to stay with him and help with the preparations.” 

“No!” Bilbo whined. “Mam, you know I hate people in my space!”

“Yes, but I’m your grandmother, so you’ll tolerate it.” She rebutted. “Besides, you might as well get used to it. You’ll have a dwarf living with you soon enough.”

“Don’t remind me.” He moaned into his hands, rubbing them over his face. “Fine. I already know I’m not going to win this. But I have final say over all party and wedding arrangements!” He insisted. 

“Of course, dear.” Adamanta agreed looking just a bit smug. 

“And this is not an invitation for you to try to shove food down my throat the whole time you’re there! I need my space and privacy to work! And don’t even think about trying to tidy my study.” His voice dropped low in warning at the last demand. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

He ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “Fine! Three weeks! Birthday wedding! Mam will be staying with me until then. Dwarrow witnesses will be sent to attend the wedding. I'll begin preparations for the arrangement immediately. Anything else or can we finally be done for the night?!” 

“It’s a shame it’s so late in the season. Flower choices will be limited.” Adamanta mused distractedly. 

“I think that should do.” The Thain confirmed with a chuckle as his grandson stared in utter defeat at his grandmother. “I’ll add it to the contract. Why don’t you two go get some rest. We have one more meeting tomorrow for the final reading and signing of the contracts. And then things should start rolling, I should think.” 

Thorin nodded once in agreement and followed his betrothed in getting up from the table. Master Baggins pushed his chair in tiredly and headed for the door. Thorin rushed out some respectful farewells before hurriedly taking off after his future spouse. 

Master Baggins was already speed walking down the hall when Thorin shut the door behind him and he hurried to catch up. It was never too early to try to foster a better relationship with his betrothed. “Master Baggins.” He called when he was close enough to do so without sounding obnoxious. 

The hobbit stopped and spun on his heels to face him, making no effort to hide his annoyance. “What?” He snapped. 

Thorin took a breath to level his temper. He wasn’t used to such disregard, not from anyone but men anyway. “I just wanted to thank you . . for everything you’ve done and are doing for-“

“Well don’t!” Bilbo cut him off. “I’m not doing this for you!” He stepped closer angrily. “In fact, I’m not quite sure why I’m doing this as it has yet to offer me anything but headaches and work! So keep your thanks to yourself and stay out of my way. Being married won’t make us anything more than strangers under the same roof. If you’re hoping for anything more, you’re a fool.” He spat out and promptly turned around and walked away without waiting for a reply. 

Thorin watched him leave, taking several more breaths to control himself. He should have known better than to think he could make any progress with the stubborn hobbit. Perhaps, this wasn’t the best time to approach him, but they didn’t have a lot of time to spare. 

He sighed out his anger. He couldn’t say he was really expecting a favorable response and Master Baggins was clearly under a lot of pressure. And the long meetings didn’t help. Maybe he would be in a better mood tomorrow and Thorin could try again. 

As much as he would like to just give up and let the hobbit have his way, he couldn’t afford to. His people needed this contract to work and it depended on this marriage. He sighed once more and turned to head back to the rooms he’d been given during his stay. He would try again tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: The contracts are finally signed and Bilbo is determined to return home as soon as possible. The Thain makes arrangements to get him home but not before addressing a very important question: where will Thorin be staying until the wedding?


	6. The Ride to Hobbiton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another poll going for bonus updates for reaching 300 Ao3 subscribers. Be sure to get your vote in [here](https://domesticgoddesswriter.tumblr.com/post/620529761179123712/300-ao3-subscribers). You can vote by commenting on the post, sending me an ask, or letting me know which two works you'd like to vote for here in the comments.

The next morning the hobbit council reconvened for the reading of the contracts. The Thain had had the final contracts written up early that morning in time for the meeting. The marriage contract was read in private between Thorin, Master Baggins, the Thain and his wife in the Thain’s study before hand. 

Bilbo grumbled under his breath about not needed a babysitter but didn’t protest any part of the contract. They both signed it and were assured that they would each received a copied version and that Thorin was welcome to have his translated into his own language for his people's records.

Gerontius read through the other contract in the meeting, to ensure everyone was refreshed on their responsibilities once the contract was signed. Afterward, everyone took a turn signing it. Master Baggins was the last to sign it and one would think he was filling out his own death warrant with the amount of solemness he did it with. 

He barely gave Thorin so much as a glance through all of the morning procedures and Thorin decided it would be best to give him his space. Once the contract was signed and a copied version was promised to Bilbo from which a another copy could be made in the dwarvish tongue, it was about lunch time and the hobbits filed out to join the extended Took household for the meal. 

“Bilbo.” Gerontius called the younger hobbit back as he tried to escape before the crowd. “I’d like to speak with you, please.” Bilbo heaved a sigh before spinning around and marching back to his grandfather. 

“Shall we leave you?” Thorin offered as he and Balin had lingered to wait for the train of hobbits to leave. 

“No, no. That won’t be necessary. This discussion is relevant to you as well.”

“What discussion?” Bilbo asked shortly. 

“What are your plans now that the contracts are signed?” his grandfather asked. 

“I’m going home. I have work to do.”

“You won’t stay for lunch?”

Bilbo gave him an unimpressed stare that clearly said the elder hobbit should know better.

“Hildifons will cart you if you wait.” 

“I am leavening as soon as I can get out of here, one way or another.” 

“You won’t get home until late if you walk.” The Thain tried to reason. 

“So be it.” Bilbo replied stubbornly. 

Gerontius sighed deeply. “Very well, I'll have Ada pack him his lunch.”

“I can make it home on my own just fine.” Bilbo crossed his arms defiantly. 

“I would still prefer to ensure you’re delivered there safely, for my and Ada’s sake.” Gerontius insisted and Bilbo rolled his eyes. “And the dwarves? Where will they stay?”

Bilbo’s brows dropped in a scowl. “What’s wrong with the Green Dragon?”

“They will be your kin soon.” 

“They aren't yet.” Bilbo retorted in annoyance. “Are you suggesting I have my betrothed stay in my home and provide the whole Shire with gossip fodder? Isn't it enough that I’m marrying a bloody dwarf?! You want to humiliate me in front of the whole bloody Shire?!” He started getting worked up. 

“Calm down, my boy. They can stay at the inn tonight, but Ada will likely be joining you tomorrow and then there won’t be anything scandalous about it.” Bilbo was tapping his foot in agitation. “You might as well get used to having the company and you can save money on inn expenses. Besides, you might as well have him on hand as you prepare for the wedding.”

Master Baggins heaved another put upon sigh. “Fine. Can I go now?”

“I suppose that depends on if our dwarven guests will be joining you.” Gerontius turned an expectant gaze to Thorin. 

Personally, Thorin was more than happy to wait out another day here and claim what little peace he could before he was forced to live with his obnoxiously, defiant future spouse. But, for the sake of the contract, he should stay with his betrothed. He couldn’t afford to appear as if he wasn't invested in the relationship. Plus, he had been stuffed one too many times from their hobbit meals. 

“We will accompany him and stay at the inn for the night as you suggested.” He answered. 

Bilbo shook his head in annoyance but the Thain looked pleased by the answer. “Very good, then. Bilbo, you may leave as soon as your guests are ready.”

“Not _my_ guests.” Bilbo grumbled under his breath as he turned to escape.

The Thain sighed as he watched his grandson leave. “Be patient with him. He’s had . . He’s had a rough time. He isn’t always like this.” He tried to assure but Thorin wasn’t quite convinced. “It should get a bit better once he’s back home.” He huffed a laugh. “He’s a bit anti-social, that one. Not a very hobbitish trait . . but he’s always been . . special.”

“I’ll do my best.” Was all Thorin could offer. The Thain gave him a hard look, one indicating that he had better. 

“Well, best not keep him waiting if you don’t want to make him any worse. I’ll have your ponies brought out for you while you get your things.” Gerontius ushered them out before leaving to find his sons. 

Thorin and Balin shared a glance before heading back to their rooms to collect Dwalin and their things. By the time they made it outside, their ponies and a cart where waiting for them. 

The dwarrow loaded their packs onto their mounts as Master Baggins failed to fend off his grandmother. 

“I am sending this food with you. It had better be gone by the time I arrive tomorrow!” She demanded, pulling him back by his coat when he tried to escape. “And I had better not find you passed out in your study again when I get there! You have a bed, for Yavanna’s sake! Use it!” 

“Duly noted. Can I go now? Your making me bloody later than the blasted dwarrow!” He snapped as Thorin and the others mounted their ponies.

“All right. No need to shout. Do I at least get a goodbye?” She returned more meekly. 

“I’m going to see you tomorrow.” Bilbo responded unimpressed. 

“Never take a day for granted, love. We can be here today and gone tomorrow.” She chided softly. 

Master Baggins attitude seemed to soften. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Until tomorrow?” He offered softly. 

She took his face in her hands and rubbed their noses together. “Take care, my boy.”

He nodded slightly and gently pulled her hands away before climbing up into the cart next to his uncle. She shuffled over to Thorin before they could leave and handed him three small sacks. “For the road. You take care of my boy.” She added in warning before stepping away. 

Thorin peeked into a sack. It contained a small loaf of freshly baked bread, some cheese and dried fruit and nuts and a couple of sweet looking pastries. He gave her a nod as thanks. “I’ll do my best.” That seemed the most he could promise when dealing with this particular hobbit. 

He passed Dwalin and Balin each a sack as the cart ahead of them spurred into motion. They followed on their ponies, riding along side the cart when the road was clear and falling behind when the roads started becoming more busy. 

They passed through Took country until they crossed the bridge leading to the heart of Hobbiton. Almost as soon as they crossed the water, Thorin noticed Master Baggins spine straighten. He had almost been leaning against his uncle before then, not quite slouching but more relaxed, and Thorin noticed the distinct change in posture. 

He sat almost regally, on the little cart as it made its way down the main road, his back straight and his chin up. Thorin studied him, impressed. It brought back long forgotten memories of his training as a young prince. “You must never show your people weakness!” His grandfather had lectured. “Your strength is their security. If you are strong and fearless, so will they be. If you are weak and afraid, they will be too.” 

Thorin wondered what need a hobbit would have for such training. Bilbo wasn’t a king, though he would be considered equal to a prince by dwarrow standards, but he didn’t rule the Shire and the hobbits suffered very little conflict. It seemed a bit too informal for what he had already learned of hobbits. 

The road became busier as they traveled over the green hills and brought them closer to the center of Hobbiton. The Thain had taught him a little of the different regions of the Shire, Hobbiton being generally considered to be a more uppity or high class region. Since it was center for much of the Shire’s markets and businesses, it was more commercial and residential than agricultural. 

The information soon proved true when the green fields faded away in favor of smials surrounded by private gardens and eventually shops fronts and booths. Soon the streets were bustling and nearly every hobbit they passed stopped to stare as they passed through. 

Or rather they stared at Thorin and Dwalin but only after acknowledging the riders in the cart. Thorin wasn’t entirely sure what was going on until a hobbit finally called out a respectful greeting to Master Baggins. After that he was acutely aware of every respectful nod, tip of a hat, wave, and greeting that his betrothed received. Though some were more genuine and enthusiastic about it, it was clear it was an automatic response for most. 

The main road widened as they entered the town market place and their pace slowed significantly as they were forced to weave though the crowds busily finishing up their business for the day as the sun was starting to go down. They were about halfway through the market square when a shrill, agitated voice seemed to blindside them.

“Bilbo Baggins! How dare you?!” It accused over the hum of the market, drawing not a few hobbits’ attentions. A well-dressed hobbitess marched up to them. “The least you could have done was left a note!” The lass chided with a scowl. Her long, dark brown curls were done up to let the majority spill over her one shoulder. She looked young and her clothes were extravagant but tasteful, not being overly gaudy or bright. She was a beautiful lass, by hobbit comparisons. 

“Hello, Lobelia.” Master Baggins returned with a slight sigh, the wagon coming to a stop for her. “I was called away on short notice and I did leave a note.”

“Oh, Yes! The word ‘meeting’ is oh, so informative! You could have mentioned you’d be gone for three days!” 

“I didn’t know, Lobelia. I wasn’t aware of the nature of the meeting until it started.” He returned with controlled patience. 

She studied him with narrowed eyes and Thorin wondered at this lass who seemed to confront him so easily. He was a bit surprised his intended hadn’t told her off and sent her home in an upset by now.

“Very well! Move over! You can offer me a ride as repayment.” She ordered and Thorin braced himself for his betrothed’s retaliation. 

“I’m not sure there's room up here for that dress.” Master Baggins returned mildly.

“Well, you had better make room for it, Master Baggins!” She snapped back. 

Bilbo sighed and stood up, his uncle chuckling and scooting over to make more room. He climbed down to help the hobbitess up into the cart. Thorin watched in bafflement as his defiant, disagreeable future spouse ever so politely helped the lass into the cart before following new her back up. 

The cart was a bit crowded now but the lass didn’t seem to mind and took Master Baggins’ arm, leaning close in a very overly-familiar way as she continued to demand to know what he had been up to as they continued moving again. 

Master Baggins seemed to take it uncharacteristically well as she clung and bossed at him. Thorin watched them carefully and felt a dark feeling come to life in his chest. He had been led to believe that his betrothed was . . unattached, but he hadn’t considered . . unofficial connections. But they had a contract and complete fidelity had been implicitly agreed upon.

They were not married yet, but this lass would soon have to learn her place. Thorin was so distracted glaring at the back of her pretty dark head of curls that he didn’t even notice the inn until the cart came to a stop outside of it. 

“Here we are! The Green dragon Inn!” Hildifons announced after drawing the ponies to a stop. 

A young hobbit ran out to greet them and master Baggins called him over. “These three dwarrow are my guests. Let your father know that I’ll be paying for the expenses of their stay.” He pulled out his little note pad and scribbled something quickly before ripping out the page and leaning down to hand it to the lad. “Provide them whatever they need. You can send me the bill tomorrow as they’ll only be staying the one night.”

“Yes, Master Baggins, sir!”

“And make sure their ponies are tended to.” Bilbo added as the lad pocketed the little note.

“Yes, sir!” The lad immediately ran over and cautiously offered to take their ponies. They grabbed their packs before allowing him to do so. 

“Let’s go.” Master Baggins ordered once his business had been taken care of. “We’ll drop off miss Bracegirdle first, if you don’t mind.” 

“Master Baggins!” Thorin called before the cart could get moving again. He walked over to the side of the wagon where his betrothed was seated. Bilbo peered down at him as he waited. “Where am I to find you on the marrow?”

“Seriously?! Bag End is the biggest smial in Hobbiton! It’s kind of hard to miss.” The lass snickered in reply and Thorin sent her a glare which was ignored. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll send someone for you.” Bilbo answered blandly and gestured for his uncle to continue. 

Thorin watched them ride away, a suspicious jealousy trying to spread through his chest like clingy vines as his betrothed rode away with the lass fawning all over him. 

Balin clapped his shoulder to get his attention and gestured to the inn with his head. Thorin sighed out his frustrations and followed them in. They were quickly shown to a large room with beds big enough for men. Thorin suspected it was intended for men and perhaps one of their nicer rooms. 

Meals were brought to them even without their prompting and they sat down at their small table to discuss their next moves. 

“The two of you should return to the mountain and let Dis and the people know about the . . arrangement.” Thorin started. 

“Ye want us ta just leave ye here?” Dwalin asked with an incredulously raised brow. 

“It’s the Shire. I’m hardly at risk and I think I could fend off a few hobbits even if I was attacked. The trip back is not as safe and I would rather you have each other for aid. Besides, I’ll probably be stuck in the midst of wedding arrangements for the next three weeks.” He added unenthusiastically. “It might be easier to . . . connect with Master Baggins if I’m the only dwarf ‘invading’ his home.”

“Ye want us ta leave ye with the crazy brat of a hobbit? What he flies of the handle at ye?”

Thorin gave him a glare. As if he couldn’t handle a hobbit barely half his size. “I’m sure I can handle myself.”

“I think yer right.” Balin nodded sagely. “It would demonstrate our trust in our ‘to be’ neighbors and I think having our continued presence will only put further pressure on your betrothed. Plus, it may take both of us to settle the people once they realize what you had to agree on to make this work. Dis alone may take both of us to restrain.”

“I will write a letter for you to give her tonight. I don’t want her riling up the people. This was my decision to make and it is a small price to pay to see our people safe and well again. You will both have enough work on your hands to keep our people from rebelling against the deal we’ve struck.”

“Aye. They won’t be pleased that ye had to marry a hobbit.” Dwalin agreed. 

“We need this to work.” Thorin sighed. “I need your help to make sure the people don’t fight this. Another fifteen years of that mountain and there won’t be a people to help.”

Balin and his brother both nodded somberly. “Well, I guess it ain’t so bad. Ye just gotta put up with that moody brat is all. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be more of a pushover when he ain’t got his grandpa to back ‘im up.” Dwalin attempted for optimism. “And hey, ye may not even have ta put up with ’im for a hundred years! I hear the halflings don’t live that long.”

“Don’t call them that. They don't like it.” Thorin corrected. "It won’t help our situation if our people are going around calling them that and Master Baggins is a formidable character in his own right, so I doubt that will be the case. Even the Thain was hard pressed to control him.” Balin nodded in agreement. 

“Are ye sure ye’ll be all right, Thorin?” Balin wondered. “Ye’ll have ta manage both your husband-to-be and our overall standing with the hobbits. Ye’ll have ta learn their social customs quickly.”

“You say that as if I’m incapable of diplomacy.” Thorin griped. 

“It’s not your strongest skill.” Balin hedged with a small smirk. 

“I’ll be fine. I’ll try to get things moving on this end so we can get some of our people off the mountain before winter. You’ll need to return with a few more witnesses for the wedding. Other than occasional trips, I don’t think I’ll be able to return to the mountain. I will need your and Dis’s help to handle things there as we prepare things here.”

Balin nodded in acceptance. “Aye.”

“Part of me would gladly switch places with you.” Thorin rubbed a hand over his face already dreading his future interactions with his intended. “I do not foresee the wedding or this marriage as being smooth or pleasant.”

“Nor do I envy ye yer position.” Balin agreed. “No one can doubt yer dedication to our people.”

“It is my job to see to their welfare.” Thorin sighed, not feeling particularly heroic. “Speak to the innkeeper and get whatever you need for your trip. In fact, take as many supplies as you can carry. Every little bit helps. You can leave in the morning, just be sure to make it back in time for the wedding.”

The brothers nodded and they finished eating before leaving to see what they could get from the innkeeper. They were granted everything they asked for without question. Thorin requested some paper and ink and wrote up a quick letter to his sister, informing her of the agreement that they had been able to reach with the hobbits and that he had volunteered himself willingly. She would be angry enough about it, but, hopefully, his own written confirmation would ease some of her spite. 

He kept the letter brief, promising to send more extended information later and gave a brief summary of their projected plans. He only wrote a couple lines about his new betrothed but carefully kept them as neutral as possible. He didn't need to feed her aggression towards the people they would soon be sharing land with. 

The next morning the brothers saddled up early, their ponies as loaded up as they could be, and set out for the blue mountains. Thorin watched them leave before returning back to the inn. He wasn’t about to wait to be ‘sent for.’ He wasn’t a servant. So he would have to ask around to find out more about this ‘Bag End’ if he was going to pay his intended a surprise visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Thorin makes his way to Bag End but it seems there is more competition for his future husband than he was led to believe. It isn't long before they're shouting at each other again, but his hobbity betrothed isn't quite feeling up to a fight.


	7. The Largest Smial in Hobbiton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! 😁

Thorin trudged along the main road that traveled around Hobbiton. It was still quite early, but the telltale signs of activity were plentiful. The smells of freshly baked breads and desserts spilled out of every home he passed, some with fresh pastries setting conspicuously on open windowsills. 

Not too many hobbits were out and about yet, but an occasional one would wander out to check the mail, stopping to send a curious or suspicious glance before shuffling back into their _smial_. That the term the innkeeper had used. Regardless of what the little burrow like houses were called, they were strangely appropriate for the small, rabbit-like race. 

He'd managed to pry some information from the innkeeper over a hot breakfast. The hobbit had been tight lipped at first, but a few well placed compliments on the food loosened his lips. Thorin had learned that Master Baggins' home was situated on the main road. Apparently, it was the largest smial in all of Hobbiton and even had a name. Bag End it was called. The innkeeper didn’t seem to think Thorin would have any trouble finding it. He simply said to ‘look for the big ol' hill.’

As Thorin had yet to see anything that impressive, he figured he hadn’t found it yet. That or a hobbit's idea of large was a bit skewed, which was entirely possible given their small stature. But he kept walking and examining every home he passed. Some were obviously larger than others, but none of them looked all that big as far as he could tell. 

Most of them did sport rather large and elaborate gardens out front though. He continued to walk as he came up to a new hill with windows set into it, indicating it wasn’t just any old hill. But it wasn’t particularly taller than any of the others, so he didn’t pay it much mind. 

Walking, he made note of another house on the other side of the road before turning to scan for the door on the first. There was no door. A window here and there and a large elaborate garden that wrapped around the hill and, in some spots, over the hill. He looked back the way he'd come to see if he'd missed a door but still didn’t see one. 

He scanned the hill in the other direction, but there was still no door. Raising a brow curiously, he continued his trek. He studied the hill as he walked, at one point he couldn't tell where it ended on either side, and it grew taller as he went. Still a window occasionally accented the natural looking outer walls. 

Passing another smial on the opposite side, he still hadn’t found an entrance to the large hill. He did, however, catch some movement in the garden surrounding it. A hobbit popped up, holding a pair of garden shears. He certainly wasn’t Master Baggins, but he looked rather young. 

“Hello.” Thorin made him jump. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just wondering if you could point me to the home of Master Baggins.”

“Oh, well, you're lookin’ at it.” The hobbit gestured behind him with a small nervous laugh. “This is Bag End right here.”

“Where’s the door?”

“Oh, uh, keep going. You’re almost to it. It’s pretty big, huh? Biggest smial in Hobbiton.” 

“And you are?” Thorin eyed him suspiciously. 

“I’m, uh, I’m Master Baggins gardener. I keep all his gardens in tip-top shape. It’s a full time job. You know, cause they’re so big.”

“He must be very proud of them.” Thorin had learned it was most profitable to compliment food and plants in the land of hobbits. And Balin didn't think he was diplomatic. 

“Oh, well, thank you.” The young hobbit fidgeted bashfully. “But I, uh, don’t think he really cares that much about them to be completely honest.”

“And yet he hires you to keep them all in pristine shape?”

“Yes, well, 'Master Baggins is a good hobbit. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise', as my Pa would say.” The hobbit shook his finger as he mimicked. “Anyways, you’ll find the door up just a little ways further.” 

“Thank you, Mister . . ." 

“Gamgee.” The hobbit nodded. 

“Mister Gamgee.” Thorin returned the nod before continuing on his way. Just as the hobbit had said it wasn’t much longer before he found a gate and a set of stairs leading up to a bright green door. The hobbits seemed to prefer nature and earth color palettes. 

He stepped through the gate, making sure to secure it before walking up the shallow steps. He paused at the door, taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself to deal with his disagreeable intended. Hesitating as long as possible without looking suspicious, he knocked on the door. 

There was no answer. He waited several moments and tried again, knocking a little harder. It was a big house, perhaps he simply hadn’t been heard. There was still no answer, and Thorin huffed and knocked once more even harder. 

“Are you _trying_ to bust down the door?” A familiar feminine voice snapped from behind. 

He spun around to find the same hobbitess as the day before with her arms folded in front of her. She glared with distaste. 

“It doesn’t matter how hard you knock. He’s not going to answer. Do you have an appointment?” She asked primly as she marched up the steps towards him.

“No, but we have business to discuss.” He tried not to growl. He already didn’t like her. 

She humphed and budged her way to the door. Pulling out a set of keys from her dress pocket, she started to search through them. She wore a much simpler dress than before, elegant and tasteful in its own way, but not nearly as bright or lavish as the one from the day before. It seemed a far more sensible style. 

Picking out a key, she slipped it into the door. It clicked and, with a twist and push, swung open soundlessly. A wave of jealousy swelled in his chest. First, she hung all over his intended, and now she had the key to his house? He stubbornly followed her in before she could shut him out.

She made a disgusted sound but didn’t protest. “At least take off those mud cakes you call shoes! I work hard to keep this house clean!” She deposited her umbrella in a little holder by the door and shrugged off her shawl to hang it up.

" _You_ keep this house clean?’” Thorin narrowed his eyes. 

“Of course. I’m Master Baggins’ house keeper. And some day I’ll be Mistress Baggins. I might as well take care of my future home.” She stuck her nose up and marched down the hallway. 

“‘Mistress Baggins?’” Thorin had been told that Master Baggins was unspoken for. Or had his intended simply been leading this hobbitess along for . . . personal favors. Either way, he didn’t like her intruding on what was now his territory. 

“Of course. Who else would he marry? That Brandybuck?” She scoffed. “As if. A master should have heirs.” 

Thorin raised a brow. He hadn’t thought of that, but a more immediate concern was that he might have yet another rival. No wonder Master Baggins was so busy. He must have his hands full just keeping up with all of his lovers. The thought set bitterly in Thorin’s mind. He would not share what was rightfully his, regardless of the method by which he acquired it. Each of these ‘lovers’ would need to learn their place. 

He followed her into a massive kitchen, and she bustled around it with intimate familiarity. Everything was pristine and organized. There were no less than three ovens and even a roasting pit. Thorin had not seen such a large and extravagantly stocked kitchen since his time in Erebor. 

She quickly lit one of the stove tops and set a kettle to boil. Flitting around, she put together a small tray of rolls and jam with a nice little tea set. 

He inhaled a deep breath for patience. “Where will I find Master Baggins?” He waited for some kind--any kind--of direction. 

“You won’t. He usually keeps to his study, and it’s probably locked. He doesn’t like guests and generally won’t see them without an appointment.” She continued to go about her business, pouring the hot water into a fancy teapot before placing it on the tray with a small canister of tea, and a little paper packet with powder in it.

“And I suppose you have the key.” He suspected he already knew the answer.

“Of course. I’m not _just_ his house keeper.” She picked up the tray and flowed gracefully from of the room.

Following close behind her, he refused to be beaten by this overconfident hobbitess. They wandered down what seemed like an endless hall with numerous doors passing by until she finally came to a particular closed door. She set her tray down on a small table beside it and fished out her keys. She tutted at his stubbornness. 

She unlocked the door and pushed it open before picking her tray back up and walking into the room. He slipped in behind before she could shut the door in his face. She set her tray down on a little tea service cart near a large desk covered in stacks of papers. Behind it sat his betrothed, little spectacles on his nose, as he staring at the document he was currently engrossed in.

“Please tell me you haven’t been stuck behind that desk all night?” She poured a cup of tea. 

Master Baggins murmured something and picked up another document peering at each one in turn, otherwise completely ignoring her. She sighed and grabbed the tea cup and a small plate with a roll before setting them in a bare spot on the desk. 

She leaned over him, bracing her hands on his shoulders and resting her cheek against his head. “You need to eat something at least. I brought you some tea.” Thorin’s hackles raised and a possessive growl vibrated softly in his chest.

Bilbo pulled his spectacles off and rubbed his eyes with a groan. “What time is it?”

“Almost second breakfast, darling.” She carded her fingers through his curls and up the side of his head. 

He muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly like a curse and rubbed his hand over his face with a groan. 

“Are you hungry?” Her hands continued to travel through his hair. 

Flinching, ee cursed suddenly, ducking and lifting his arms to ward her off. “For Yavanna’s sake, Lobelia, get off!” He touched the back of his head gingerly with a wince and checked his fingers for something. 

“Why? Bilbo What happened to--“

Master Baggins ducked and swatted her away again when she tried to investigate. “Hands off.” He checked his head once more. 

She huffed unhappily with her hands on her hips. “Fine, but will you at least eat if I cook you something?” 

“Yes . . . I'm bloody famished.” His aggression faded and his stomach growled in agreement.

“Wow! You must be if you’re admitting it.” Her eyes went wide with surprise. She shoveled several more rolls onto his plate and set a little jar of jam with a dainty little spreading knife nearby. “Eat some rolls to hold you over while I get breakfast started.” She pointed to the plate and hustled out, completely ignoring the dwarf in the room. 

Bilbo seemed to finally notice him as he watched the hobbit lass leave. “What are you doing here?” He asked irritably, flipping his little notepad open and scanning a few pages. “I didn’t send for you.” The statement ended almost sounding like a question. 

“I'm not your servant. I will not wait to be sent for at your convenience.” Thorin's temperament had soured by the hobbitess’s presence, but he immediately regretted not taking a moment to tame his tongue and give a more diplomatic reply. 

Master Baggin’s eyes widened in anger, and he jumped up from of his chair with a slam of his hand on his desk. “And I am not some commoner that you can barge in upon whenever you please! I am the Master of this house and will continue to be so even after our unfortunate arrangement! You--“ His angry rebuttal fizzled out suddenly, and he swayed, grabbing his desk for support before he collapsed into his chair.

Thorin jolted forward to help but didn’t know what he should do when his intended pressed a bright red handkerchief over his nose and mouth. Bilbo sagged over his desk, taking slow deep breaths. “Is there anything I can--" Thorin tried to offer but Master Baggins waved him off. 

Master Baggins slowly pushed his chair away from the desk, the handkerchief still over his face, and very slowly leaned over the arm of his chair to reach for one of several cords hanging behind him. He didn’t reach on his first try but Thorin suspected his help wouldn't be welcome. Finally, Master Baggins managed to wrap the string around his fingers and gave it a couple tugs before leaning back into his chair. 

Nothing happened for a couple minuetes and Thorin was at a loss of what he should do. “Should I--“

“Yavanna’s gardens, Bilbo!” A voice erupted behind Thorin, making him jump and the hobbitess rushed past him with a small tray holding a glass jug. Hurrying to set it down, she poured a glass of ice water and held it out. Bilbo took it and pressed it against his forehead as he continued taking deep breaths. After a few more seconds, he lowered his handkerchief and guzzled down the whole glass, finishing with a sigh. 

She snatched the glass and refilled it. “Bilbo Baggins! When was the last time you ate?” 

He took the refilled glass and mumbled something indiscernible, averting his gaze, before taking a slower sip. 

“What was that?” She forcefully propped her fists on her hips. 

“I don’t remember!” Bilbo snapped back. “I know I had dinner. He was there.” He gestured toward Thorin with a lazy wave of his hand.

“That was two evenings ago.” Thorin supplied. Surely, Bilbo had eaten since then.

The lass gasped, and his intended sent him a dark glare. Apparently not, then.

“Bilbo! How are you even functioning?” She seemed torn between outrage and concern. “No wonder you’re trying to pass out or gag or whatever it is you’re doing! Hobbits aren’t made to go without eating!” She took one of the rolls and cut it open to spread jam inside. 

“I’ve gone longer.” He retorted quietly from sheer lack of energy as he rested the cold glass against his forehead. 

“Quiet! If you’re going to open your mouth, you better be shoving something inside of it!” She set the roll back down in front of him. 

He gave her an unimpressed stare. “Have I ever mentioned how utterly annoying you are?”

“Eat it! And you had better have eaten a lot more by the time I come back, or so help me, I’m gonna brace your jaw open and shove those rolls down your gullet!” She emphasized her order with a point and bustled out of the room.

Master Baggins sat back in his chair and watched her leave completely unperturbed by the scolding. He rolled his eyes once she was gone and grabbed one of the plain rolls, ripping off a piece of it and stuffing it in his mouth with a grimace. 

“Why haven’t you eaten?” Thorin helped himself to one of the seats in front of the desk. “I know your grandmother sent you a basket of--“

“I was busy!” Master Baggins glared. “Thanks to you!” He stuffed a bigger piece of roll into his mouth. 

“Surely you’re not so busy that you can’t take time to eat and sleep.” Thorin tried to keep his tone neutral. 

“And I suppose you would know exactly how busy I am, wouldn’t you? I bet you know all about managing an agricultural community during harvest season! I bet you just throw some huge unnecessary region wide events on top just for the fun of it?” Bilbo distractedly devoured the first roll until he had to reach for a second.

“I know what it’s like to lead a people.” 

“A people that is scrounging around to survive! This is a thriving, flourishing community! I have more than daily rations to think about!”

Thorin bristled, and his control over his temper slipped. He burst to his feet. “Do you think that it’s easy? Trying to get get your people through each day? Trying to make sure that everyone eats and gets the medicine they need? Do you think I sit around looking at papers, day and night? I work for my people! With my own labor and sweat, I help provide for my people! You think you are above me because you sit behind a desk and order others about? How have you worked for your people? How have you suffered for them?” He bellowed. 

Master Baggins sat relaxed in his chair, staring at the raging dwarf with an infuriating, unimpressed stare. It would have fueled Thorin’s anger even more if it weren’t for the almost dead look in the hobbit's eyes. He remembered himself and took a deep breath to regain control. 

“We may be different.” Thorin began much more diplomatically. “We have different concerns and methods of leading. But . . . we are equals.” He felt like he was admitting it to himself as much as arguing with his intended. “We owe each other mutual respect for our given positions.”

Master Baggins raised a skeptical brow, apparently not convinced after Thorin’s outburst. “You are mostly correct.” He reached for another roll and took the time to spread jam on it. “You are the one who came to me for help. That puts you at a distinctly lower position.”

“I did not come requesting charity!”

“It doesn’t matter. You are the one who has the most to lose, and you are in hobbit territory. If you expect your little venture to be successful, you will have to take careful note of hobbit etiquette and social expectations.” He quickly devoured the new roll, eating much more enthusiastically now and already looking better for it. 

“Why? You seem to ignore them easily enough.” Thorin took his seat once again. At least they weren’t screaming now. He had spent enough time with the Thain’s family to know that his betrothed did not behave like a typical hobbit. The meeting alone was proof enough of that. 

Bilbo snorted and grabbed the last roll, the one the hobbitess has prepared. “ _I_ don’t have to earn anyone’s favor. They can gossip and scoff behind my back all they want. But when things start falling apart, it’s my door they’ll be knocking on. I don’t need them to like me because they _need_ me.” He glanced up at Thorin. “You don’t have that advantage. They’ll be looking for a reason to boot you out.” 

Thorin’s gaze narrowed, but Bilbo returned to focusing on finishing his roll and pouring himself some more tea. It had sounded like a threat, but the wording was off. A warning? . . . Or advice? He continued to study his betrothed who steadfastly ignored him in favor of savoring his tea. Was it overly optimistic of him to think that Master Baggins was giving him pointers for success? 

Thorin tried to study him for an answer, but his hobbity future husband wasn’t giving anything away. Well, whatever it was, it was probably true, so he decided to file it away as useful information none-the-less. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Bilbo's finally feeling somewhat civil and Thorin joins him for second breakfast, courtesy of Lobelia. Adamanta arrives and the wedding planning begins. Unfortunately, there's a little hiccup.


	8. The Second Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's five Mondays this month! That means I'm running a poll for what bonus chapters I'll be releasing on August 31st. Be sure to check it out [here](https://domesticgoddesswriter.tumblr.com/post/625603149102759936/5th-monday-bonus-poll) and get in your votes! If for some reason you can respond on tumbler, you can always leave your votes in a comment. Please refer to the post for a list of available fics. 🥰
> 
> (Oh, hey. I finally learned I could pin posts, so it should be easy to find if you go to my [tumblr](https://domesticgoddesswriter.tumblr.com/). 😆😅)

Delicious smells of bacon, griddle cakes, and other hot breakfast foods filled the house until it filtered into the study. Bilbo finished the last of his tea and stood to collect the dishes off his desk, placing them back on the tray. “Smells like the food is just about done. You might as well join us. She cooks for the likes of Master Bolger.” He slipped on his vest and buttoned it. 

Thorin couldn’t help but notice how unnaturally thin he looked, especially for a hobbit. He looked like he might break in half with a well placed shove. Of course, going days without eating certainly wasn’t helping. No wonder everyone was shoving food in the hobbit's face all the time. 

“I already ate.” Thorin followed anyway. It’s not like he could stay in the private study alone. 

“You ate first breakfast. This is second. Get used to eating frequently. It’s incredibly rude to not eat when food is put in front of you. It’s a slight towards the cook.” Bilbo stopped in the doorway. “It’s one of the most offensive insults you can give a hobbit.”

“So basically, I should do as you say and not as you do. You're constantly refusing food.” Thorin stretched his steps until he caught up to walk beside his intended . . . as equals. 

Bilbo snorted. It almost sounded amused. “Do that, and you will, at the very least, be more liked than me. So I suppose you could do worse.”

Thorin studied him for any hint of sarcasm, but Bilbo kept his gaze forward and neutral, save for the barest hint of a smile that pulled at his lips. Maybe his betrothed did have a sense of humor. And perhaps there was a small glimmer of hope for their future.

They arrived at the dining room as the hobbit lass was filling up the table with loaded dishes. “Perfect timing. I was just about to come get you.” She blatantly studied the master of the smial up and down as he took his seat at the head of the table. “At least you didn’t pass out on your way through the hall." She clicked her tongue at the dwarf. "He’s still here?”

“He’ll be staying here for the time being for . . . trade discussions. I’ll need you to prepare one of the guest rooms for him today,” Bilbo answered.

“And what’s wrong with the inn? They have perfectly functional rooms there.” She took the seat to his right. 

Thorin glared mildly, taking the seat to his betrothed’s left. 

“Lobelia, this is Thorin, king of the dwarves of the Blue Mountains. He’s a VIP guest and will be staying here,” Bilbo announced with finality, ending the discussion. 

“Hmph. Doesn’t seem like much,” She muttered under her breath as Bilbo focused on loading his plate. 

And load it he did. Thorin was impressed both by the size of the griddle cakes and the pile of them Bilbo was stacking on his plate. They were huge, easily two inches thick, and each one almost as big as the platters they were set on. Bilbo piled three onto his plate like they were nothing and had to use a separate plate for his eggs and bacon.

Lobelia smirked smugly as she set the syrup jars closer to his plate. Bilbo doused it in a thick blueish-black syrup before cutting a piece off the topmost cake and placing it into his mouth. He groaned softly in absolute bliss. Thorin had to clear his throat and try not to squirm in his seat from the very inconvenient response it inspired. 

Bilbo murmured something in what Thorin assumed was hobbitish and took another bite. 

Lobelia grinned, a slight blush on her cheeks. “Thank you, love. They should be by now after all the attempts you made me throw out. He’s a very picky eater.” She answered a curious look from Thorin. “It’s taken me years to perfect his mother’s griddle cake recipe, but now it’s his favorite.”

Bilbo mumbled something through stuffed cheeks, and she huffed at him. “Don’t lie. You’re a very picky eater. You’d waste away if I didn’t cook for you. Second breakfast is his favorite, but he’d barely notice if he missed most meals. He gets so obsessed with his work.” She chatted, his apparent compliment putting her in a good mood. The only thing he’s not particularly picky with is his tea and that’s probably only because of that vile m-“

Clearing his throat loudly, Bilbo cut her off. He glared at her and shook his head slightly. 

Looking chastised, she continued eating in silence. Thorin glanced between them, trying to figure out what he had missed, but they simply focused on their food. Gaining no new insights, he returned to slowly chipping away his giant griddle cake. 

“Bilbo?” The lass began after several quiet minutes. 

“Hmm?” 

“Why didn’t you eat yesterday? Your Mam sent a whole basket of food home with you.” 

Freezing, Bilbo's eyes widened. He muttered what sounded distinctly like a curse. “Where is it?”

“In the kitchen.” She gestured, looking confused. 

“Get rid of it. As soon as breakfast is over.”

“‘Get rid of it?’ Where?”

"Give it away. Dump it in a bush. Bury it. I don't care, but get rid of it." 

“What?” Lobelia asked incredulously. “Why? You like your Mam’s cooking?”

“I’ll never hear the end of it if she finds out I didn’t eat it,” Bilbo groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Just get rid of it before she gets here.”

“When is that supposed to be?”

“Later this morning. I need you to prepare a room for her as well. She’ll be staying for a while.”

“What? That’s . . . unusual. Why didn’t you just eat what she sent if you knew she was coming?”

“I was _busy_!”

“So busy that you didn’t eat or sleep at all yesterday or last night? What is going on?” she demanded.

“I’ve gone longer,” he grumbled stubbornly. 

“Bilbo Baggins, you are going to finish eating and then get some sleep!” Lobelia bossed, and he rolled his eyes and continued eating. “I mean it, Bilbo. Don’t make me drug your tea again,” she threatened lowly. 

He gave her a cold glare. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own tea.”

“But you have _so_ much work to do. When will you find the time?” The innocence in her voice belied the smug look of victory on her face. 

He grumbled into his mug as she silently gloated. “Fine. Just get rid of the basket.”

“Yes, dear.”

The way they bickered like a married couple grated on Thorin’s nerves. He could already tell he was going to have his hands full. The lass would (hopefully) vacate once she realized her lover was no longer an eligible bachelor, and Thorin would be on his own trying to wrangle his new husband into eating and sleeping every once in a while. It made him sigh just thinking about it. 

Cleaning the last bite off of his plate, Bilbo leaned back with a satisfied sigh. Thorin tried not to stare, but he couldn’t believe the small hobbit emptied both of his overloaded plates. He was certain the master should be sporting a bulge somewhere on his thin frame. 

Lobelia chuckled and disappeared into the kitchen with a load of dirty dishes, returning with a small tray holding a cup of seeping tea, a little jar of honey and a little paper packet. She placed it on the table in front of Bilbo before continuing to clear away the dishes. 

Bilbo ignored it at first, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly and stifling a yawn. Thorin watched as he braced his head on his fist and started to doze off. Lobelia huffed, but didn’t bother him until several minutes later. Removing the tea ball, she opened the paper packet and poured its powdery contents into the cup, adding a dab of honey and stirring it in. 

“What’s that?” Thorin suspected she was already slipping his hobbit some sleeping powder. 

“A pick-me-up,” she answered vaguely before waking the other hobbit with an intimate caress to his cheek and neck. “Drink.” Thorin bristled at the touch, but didn’t miss the slight grimace the order inspired in his betrothed. 

Bilbo sat straighter and guzzled the tea down unnaturally fast for a tea drinker, the last ambitious swallow drawing a small cough from him. Setting down the empty cup, he pushed away the tray.

“Good. Now go get some sleep.” She waved him away. 

“Have you gotten rid of it yet?” 

“I’m working on it,” she returned with slight irritation. 

“Do it now. The dishes can wait.”

She raised a brow and returned to the kitchen. 

Bilbo sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I have . . . um, I started some . . ." He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. He looked like he was literally battling to stay awake. “I . . . I can’t think.” He dropped his face in his hand.

Thorin caught his wrist where he had dropped it on the table, almost bracing himself upright. Bilbo’s eyes regained clarity as they immediately targeted the dwarf with their gaze. “Go get some rest. We won’t get anything done if you pass out at the desk.”

Bilbo studied him, looking like he had a mind to be annoyed but was too tired to put the energy into it. “I guess I should . . . take a short nap before Mam gets here. You might as well make yourself at home.” Standing carefully, he headed for the hallway. 

Thorin followed to make sure the hobbit didn’t collapse on the way. Fortunately, Bilbo didn’t attempt to make it far, turning into a large sitting room and sinking onto the nearest sofa. He stopped moving almost as soon as he landed, and Thorin shuffled in quietly to check on him. 

He startled when the lass appeared silently at his side, brushing past to settle a blanket over the sleeping master. She tucked it around him loosely, gently brushing her fingers through his curls before leaving again, shooing the dwarf out ahead of her. 

Glaring, he made his disgruntlement known, but she completely ignored it. He had a mind to tell her right then and there that he and Bilbo were to be wed but stilled his tongue. As personally satisfying as it might be, it wouldn’t earn him any favor with his future husband. She would find out soon enough, and he didn’t need to give his intended any more reasons to hate him. 

With nothing else to do, he explore the home that would soon be his own. He wandered down what seemed like an endless hall. There were rows of mostly closed doors on both sides, and occasionally he would stop and peek into one. They seemed to be mostly bedrooms, though he did encounter a few locked doors. He rediscovered the study but was wise enough not to go snooping in it. 

Eventually, the hall brought him around full circle where he found the dining room. The kitchen was empty and spotless once again, no basket in sight, meaning the hobbitess must have moved on to other chores. Stopping outside the sitting room, he peered in to check on his intended. Bilbo didn’t look like he’d moved at all. 

Thorin glanced around, wondering what to do next when he spotted a large rounded double door not far from the entrance to the sitting room on the other side of the hall. Wandering over curiously, he pulled open the door. 

It was a large room with only the light from a few skylights beaming in to illuminate it dimly. The ceiling was easily high enough to accommodate full grown men. There were a couple small tables along the wall on the far end near some kind of large cabinet. 

Again he was struck with a sense of nostalgia. It reminded him of some of the rooms they had in the governing quarter of Erebor. Rooms for conferences, parties, gatherings, whatever their intended purpose. It was clearly meant for social or official use. It wasn't something he expected to find in the antisocial master's home. 

A bell rang from somewhere in the hall and shook him from his reminiscing. He stepped out of the room just as Lobelia bustled past. Shutting the doors softly behind him, he wondered what was going on. 

Within moments, feminine chattering and greetings could be heard at the front door. Bilbo’s grandmother had arrived. Movement in the corner of his eye alerted him to his intended’s arrival on his other side.

Bilbo stepped out of the sitting room, straightening his vest and fixing his hair. He didn’t look much better, but some sleep was better than none. Bilbo glanced at him then down the hall toward the chatter before rolling his eyes and walking in the opposite direction. 

Thorin started to follow but was spotted by the hobbitesses before he could get far. 

“Master Thorin. I see you be made it to Bag End. I hope it’s to your liking.” Ada sounded as if she was daring him to disagree. 

“It is.” He answered simply, not wanting to risk saying the wrong thing.

She nodded and glanced around. “Where is he? Has he eaten today?” 

“He's resting in the sitting room.” 

“His study most likely.” Thorin answered over top of Lobelia, getting petty satisfaction at knowing his future husband's whereabouts better. “He just headed that way and, yes, he ate an impressive second breakfast,” He added, hoping to demonstrate he was taking his part of the agreement seriously. 

“Really? Good job, Lobelia,” Ada praised. “He seems to eat better for you than he does for me.” She pouted. 

“I know he enjoys your cooking, Mistress Adamanta, but he’s been throwing out my dishes for years until I got them perfect. I’ve had no choice but to learn his very precise preferences.” 

“Oh, please dear. Just Ada is fine,” she chuckled. “I don’t know where he gets that disagreeableness from. He was such a sweet faunt. Never had a harsh word for anyone.” She sighed wistfully. 

“I’m sure he’s in his study. I’ll take your bags to your room.” Lobelia grabbed them. 

“Thank you, dear. And, thank you, for taking care of him. I known it’s not easy.” 

Lobelia shrugged off the gratitude and grinned. “He’s a pain in the arse sometimes, but the rewards are worth it.”

“Indeed?” Ada chuckled as Lobelia dismissed herself. “And you? I see you’ve taken your role to heart.” She turned to Thorin as they continued towards the study. 

“I have every intention of fulfilling my part.”

“Mhmm. He hasn’t told her yet, has he.” It wasn't really a question.

“No.”

She sighed. “I fear it won’t go over well.”

He didn’t respond. Lobelia was a spirited lass. He could already imagine the fall out that would happen when she found out. 

They arrived at the study to find Bilbo seated behind his desk once again, working through an impressive stack of paperwork. 

Adamanta waltzed up to her grandson. “Good morning, love. Gracious! You look like you haven‘t slept a wink!”

“Hello, Mam,” Bilbo returned flatly. 

“Certainly you can afford to stop and take a short nap.”

“Already did.” He stood, grabbing a small stack of papers. “We have less than three weeks to prepare for this . . .” He immediately delved into business. “I’m leaving the arrangements to you, but I want to be kept abreast with every detail. No flower, color, gift, or side dish makes it into this event without my approval.” He eyed his grandmother over his spectacles. “I won’t insult you by trying to instruct you on the order that things need done, but I suggest we make arrangements with a tailor immediately. I doubt Master Thorin has any wedding worthy outfits, and it may take some time to get the fittings right.” 

“Of course. I can see if Mrs. Bolger can come by later today.” 

“No. We won’t be doing business with the Bolgers.” He plopped the bundle of papers back on his desk

“Really, Bilbo?" Adamanta tutted. "She’s been your tailor for years. You can’t hold her responsible for Master Bolger’s slights. She’s only a Bolger by marriage.”

“She works for the Bolgers. He benefits from her income. He’s getting too big for his britches. If he thinks so little of me, than he certainly can’t think much of my wealth. Let him support his appetite with someone else's money.”

“A slight from you could ruin their whole family.” She plopped into a chair with a huff.

“Then I guess he’ll have to learn to share the food.” Bilbo sneered with disgust. “It won’t hurt him to lose a few pounds.” He sat behind his desk.

“Bilbo Baggins!”

“It’s a free market, Mam. If they need to rely on my influence to keep themselves afloat, then maybe they should improve their product quality or put more into marketing. Either way, I’m free to take my business where I will. I’m not responsible for what everyone else does.”

“You’re a Master, Bilbo. Hobbits follow your judgments whether they like you or not.”

“So is he!” Bilbo hissed. “If he can’t take care of his own family, he doesn’t deserve to be one! He thinks so highly of himself. Let him prove his worth! I’m sick of these Masters riding on my coattails for success! Let them work for it for once!” 

“All-all right.” Adamenta smoothed out her dress in avoidance.

Bilbo pressed the bright red handkerchief to his nose. “The Bolgers will survive. It would take more than simply withholding my business to crush them. And there are plenty of other budding business hobbits that could use the support.”

“That's true, but I don’t know any other tailors here in hobbiton.”

“I’m sure Lobelia does. She’s up-to-date with all the latest gossip and whats’-what.” Bilbo put his hankerchief away and resumed his work. 

“I try. What do you want to know?” Lobelia arrived, pushing a tea cart before her. 

“Bilbo’s denied any business with the Bolgers. We’ll need to find an alternative tailor--among other things,” Adamanta explained as she took a cup of tea.

“Good riddance. I’ve been telling him to cut them off for years. What did Mister Sphere himself do this time?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Bilbo reached for a new document.

“That bad, huh?” Lobelia glanced around curiously for clues. 

“Do you know any tailors or not?”

“Of course. Several.”

“We need someone innovative. Someone who can work beyond hobbit fashions.”

“Beyond? Why?” Lobelia set a cup on the desk for him.

“Because Master Thorin here needs a proper wedding suit and hobbit fashion might be a . . . tight fit.” Ada looked the dwarf over, and Thorin raised a brow. 

“A wedding suit? Can’t one of his dwarves handle that?”

“We don’t have the time to fetch one. It needs to be ready in less than three weeks,” Bilbo replied. 

“Then why is he here? Shouldn’t he be back in his mountain getting ready for his wedding?” 

“He’s not marrying a dwarf, Lobelia,” Adamanta answered gently. “The Shire has signed a contract with the dwarves of the Blue Mountains. A uniting marriage was agreed upon.”

“Marriage? To a hobbit? What poor fool got sucked into--“ Lobelia’s mocking tone dropped as she connected the dots and turned wide-eyes to Bilbo. Thorin braced himself for the coming storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: The marriage reveal does not go well at all, and Thorin tries to wade through the aftermath. At least Bilbo's in the mood to get some work done when the dust settles.


	9. The Fallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fifth Monday! Enjoy your top picks for this month's bonus updates! 🥰

Lobelia gaped at the Master of Bag End. “It can’t be true. I don’t believe it!” Bilbo stared at his hands blankly, neither confirming nor denying it. “You said he was here for business!” 

“He is.”

“This isn’t business! It’s marriage!”

“It’s a contractual marriage necessary for the future relations of our peoples.”

She scoffed. “What ‘relations’? You of all hobbits know what dwarves think of us! How could you agree to this? To marry a dwarf!”

“The arrangement will be beneficial for the entire Shire. The marriage is necessary because we _lack_ good relations, otherwise everything will fall apart to everyone’s detriment.” Bilbo slowly gained volume though Thorin was surprised the temperamental hobbit was being so patient.

“We don’t need any stupid arrangement! We’ve managed just fine without them! Why would you agree to this? You’ve made the Shire strong enough as it is!”

“The council has made its decision, Lobelia. I am but one of many.” 

“You _are_ the bloody council” she screamed. “What do the others do besides sit on their hands and follow your orders? You could have refused a bloody marriage!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bilbo replied coldly, rubbing his face in growing agitation. Thorin had to admit the hobbit lass had more spine than most of the council members combined.

“Don’t you feed me that, Bilbo Baggins! I’ve been by your side for years! I know how the council works!” 

Finally, Bilbo snapped. He shot up from his chair, slamming his hands on the table. “What would you have me do, Lobelia? I am one hobbit against the entire Shire!”

“You’ve done enough for the bloody Shire! Let the others pull their weight for once!” she shrieked, unfazed by his temper. 

“And do what? What do you want from me?” he shouted back.

“I want you to marry _me_!” Her anger faded into a plea. “You know that’s all I’ve ever wanted from you!”

“I can’t,” he answered numbly.

“You said--"

“I never promised you anything.” His voice and gaze were frigid. 

“I-I can’t accept this! If-If you think I’m going to keep coming back and cleaning and . . . cooking for that husband thief--that . . . home wrecker! I will not! I will not accept--endorse this ridiculous arrangement!”

“Then leave.” 

“Wh-What?” she faltered in shock. 

“You’re a housekeeper. I don’t need your approval in my personal or business affairs. If you aren’t here to work, then you have no business being here. Go home. I’ll issue you the rest of this month’s pay as compensation for the sudden unemployment.” He answered flatly as he wrote out a payment notice, offering it to her when he was done. 

She stared at the paper in disgust. 

“Lobelia, dear.” Ada attempted to intervened.

“I don’t want your money.” Lobelia staggered back a step. 

“And I no longer need your services.” Bilbo dropped the payment notice on the desk. 

“Lobelia.” Ada tried again. 

Tears streamed down the lass's face, and her chest heaved with steadying breaths. “You are going to die alone and miserable, Bilbo Baggins!” She pointed, trying to contain her anger and hurt. 

Sitting down slowly, Bilbo was unmoved. He folded his hands on his desk. “Tell me something I don’t know, Lobelia.”

“It will be well deserved!” she shrieked and rushed out of the room.

“Lobelia, wait!” Ada stood to go after her, but not before stopping to yell at her grandson. “Why didn’t you just tell her the truth?”

“Get out.”

Thorin felt the hairs on his arms try to stick up under his sleeves as the atmosphere around them charged. Getting up quickly, he headed for Adamanta. If Bilbo was about to explode, she didn’t need to be here for it.

“Get out. Get out! Get out! GET! OUT!” Bilbo erupted even as Thorin dragged the elder hobbitess toward the door. He was almost certain he felt the room shake from the sheer force of the raging spirit within. Ada’s feet finally started moving, and he slammed the door shut behind them, hopefully trapping the hostile force within and limiting its destruction. 

Ada stood speechless outside the door for a moment as silence fell. “Lobelia!” She spurred into action and chased after the younger lass. 

Remaining by the door, Thorin let the adrenaline from the near confrontation wear off a bit. There was a clatter before the door clicked, and a thud sounded faintly through it. He listened for any further sounds of his intended’s ensuing tantrum, but the room went quiet. It seemed like dealing with his future husband’s temper was going to be a part of daily life. Still, he had expected to hear more damage being dealt to the room’s furniture.

When no other sounds escaped from the closed door, he turned to follow after the hobbitesses. He might as well start cleaning up his betrothed’s messes. At least the Lobelia lass would no longer be a problem, though he didn’t understand why Bilbo hadn’t just told her the conditions of the arrangement. She would have almost certainly have taken the news better if Bilbo had just told her that countless dwarrow would die if he refused. He could have played the heroic martyr. She’d probably have fawned and doted over him all the more--the indulgent mistress of her tragic hero. 

The image soured his mood further, and he was grateful that his betrothed lacked the tact to pull it off. Perhaps his Master Baggins' persistently disagreeable and confrontational temper actually worked in his favor for once.

He was almost to the front door when Adamanta came marching back in. "Why does he have to make things so difficult?" she groused, closing the door behind her. She stopped upon seeing him. "What are you doing here?"

"I--"

"Someone needs to stay with him!" She sprinted past him, and he turned to follow with a roll of his eyes. As immature as the hobbit was, Thorin was pretty sure BIlbo could survive a few minutes of his own temper tantrum.

He caught up with her as she pounded on the door. "Bilbo Baggins, open this door!" She shook the knob. "Bilbo, please, at least let me know you're all right."

Something banged against the door and startled her. Bilbo yelled something in hobbitish and it sounded very close. She took a step back. "Well, I suppose if he has the energy to yell at me he must be fine." She turned to Thorin. "You stay here in case he needs something," she ordered and headed down the hall.

“Where are you going?"

"I still have a wedding to plan, so I'll be out. See if you can get him to come out and eat something. I'll be back in time to make supper," she instructed as she left, ignoring Thorin's incredulous stare. 

How was he suppose to convince this hard-headed hobbit (who hated him) to do anything?

"Just stay close in case he needs something," she yelled over her shoulder.

Sighing, Thorin ran a hand over his face. He felt like he'd been demoted from king to hobbit-sitter. He sent a silent prayer to Mahal that things would get better. They couldn't possibly get worse . . . right?

Wandering around the house for several hours, he occasionally stopped to knock on the study door only to be ignored. Eventually, he discovered another small study next to his intended's and made himself comfortable in the plush chair behind the desk. 

It was definitely a used desk as was the rest of the study. Unimpressive compared to Bilbo's large and accommodating office with lounge chairs, a large hearth, and many other amenities of comfort, it was still very functional and well situated. It was also considerably cleaner. Whereas Bilbo had stacks of papers and books scattered all over his desk and several other surfaces (even a few stacks of books on the floor) this one was kept much cleaner with only a small, neat stack of papers sitting on the desk. 

So, who's desk was it? Thorin doubted it was Lobelia's. It didn't seem like she had much to do with Bilbo's professional work. Was there another rival Thorin had yet to meet? The hobbitess had mentioned a Brandybuck in the context of marriage. Was he an employee, perhaps? With as much work as Bilbo claimed to have, it would make sense for him to have a handful of helpers, not that his temperament was conducive to working with others.

Pushing the chair back, Thorin propped his feet on the desk and made himself comfortable. At least he wasn't wearing his boots. If he was going to hobbit-sit his future husband who was doing a grand job of pretending he didn't exist, he might as well catch a quick nap. Relaxing, he let himself drift off.

He faintly registered a clicking sound through his doze and slowly willed himself to alertness. When he opened his eyes, he startled so badly he nearly fell out of the chair. Giving his intended a reproachful glare, Thorin composed himself. “Was that necessary?”

“I see you’ve already made yourself comfortable. Are you done with your nap?” Bilbo looked down his little button nose at the dwarf, his arms crossed and looking disagreeable in general. 

“Are you done with your tantrum?” Thorin sassed before he could check himself. He braced for the verbal backlash that was sure to follow. 

To his surprise, Bilbo only raised an unimpressed brow. “For now. If you're done catching up on your delicate dwarven beauty rest, perhaps you’d care to join me so we can get some actual work done.” The irritation in his voice was blatant by the end. 

Thorin studied him, still baffled by the lack of aggression. Bilbo looked pale and his eyes were red, almost blood shot. He looked exhausted and worn, like he simply didn’t have the energy to put into being hostile. Maybe such aggression wasn’t good for hobbits. Bilbo had looked much the same the morning after his blow up at the meeting. Maybe there was a good reason they were such a peaceful people. They just weren’t built for the stress of intense conflict. “All right,” Thorin finally answered when his future husband started tapping his foot impatiently. 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make a habit of wasting my time,” Bilbo snapped and headed back to his study. 

Thorin followed, making sure to hold his tongue this time. For someone who was perfectly okay taking hours off just to throw a fit, the hobbit didn’t have much room to complain about wasting time. 

“Sit.” Bilbo took his seat at his desk.

“What exactly can I do to help you?” Thorin did as he was told, brushing off the annoyance at being ordered around. 

Bilbo fished out several loose pieces of paper, a pen, and an ink pot, slapping them on the far side of his desk near Thorin. “I need lists. How many skilled workers can I expect to have at my disposal from your people? What are their skills? How many of each skill? How many dwarrow, mainly dams and dwarflings, do we need to prioritize to get off the mountain before winter? What supplies will the remaining dwarrow need to make it through the winter? What resources, besides skills, can your people contribute to the effort? Are there any dwarrow that need immediate medical attention, supplies, or have any other urgent care needs? That includes pregnant dwarrow and young dwarflings. Shall I continue?”

Thorin’s head spun trying to keep up with all the questions. “No. Give me one task at a time or make me a list.” He scooted his chair closer to the desk to have a hard surface to work on.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Fine. Start with any urgent needs and dwarrow we need to prioritize getting off the mountain.”

Thorin rubbed at his beard. He hadn’t been to the mountain in weeks. Even if he had, that was more Dis’s area. Thorin spent most of his time working to provide, so it was Dis who generally dealt with distribution and special needs. “I . . . don't know if I can do that without returning to the mountain.”

Bilbo gave him an irritated glance. “That’s not an option.”

Thorin shrugged helplessly. “My sister Dis would know better. She handles most of the social affairs.”

Bilbo’s expression turned contemplative. “Write her a letter requesting the information then.”

“I could do that, but who would take it? It would take weeks before we got a reply.”

“A couple perhaps, but we need the information.” Bilbo rubbed at his smooth chin in thought. “We’re going to need to make better mailing arrangements,” he mumbled to himself. “Write the letter. I’ll make sure it gets delivered. Will you be able to provide _any_ useful information on your own?”

Thorin pulled the paper closer with a glare. “I left only the social issues to Dis. I’m perfectly capable of supplying any other information you need.”

“Then get to it. Finish any letters you wish to send. I’ll have them taken tomorrow. You can use the desk in the other room. You seemed comfortable enough at it.” Bilbo waved him away. 

Thorin glowered at the dismissal but was ignored in favor of more paperwork. Sighing out his frustration, he took his supplies and stood to move to the other room. He’d probably prefer to have his own working space anyway, especially away from his disagreeable betrothed. But he didn’t like being ordered about.

Glancing once more at his intended, Thorin shook his head and shuffled to the other study. The two rooms were conveniently connected by a shared door, the same door Bilbo sneaked up on him through. He set his supplies on the desk and made himself comfortable. It was a bit of a tight fit, the desk having been made for a hobbit, not a dwarf, but it was still better than using the wrong side of a cluttered desk near his disagreeable future husband. Hunching over the desk, he got to work. 

Returning some time later, Adamanta put together dinner before harassing her grandson into joining them. She succeeded, but he ate little, excusing himself early to get back to work. Supper was much the same, and he quietly picked at his food before returning to his study. 

Ada sighed and cleared away his barely touched plate. “I don’t know what to do with him sometimes.” 

Thorin wisely didn’t comment, though he could think of a few ideas. He helped her clear the table instead.

“Thank you, dear. Come, let’s find you a room shall we. I suspect he had Lobelia prepare a few before he chased her off.” She guided him into the hall. 

“Do you think she’ll be back?” Thorin kept his voice carefully neutral. Obviously, Adamanta liked the lass. 

“I hope so. There aren’t many who can deal with his temperament, not that he makes any effort to make it easier. But Lobelia’s one of the few who have stubbornly outlasted him. It pains me to see him so isolated.” She stopped to look in various rooms.

“It seems to be an isolation of his own making. Why interfere if it’s what he wants?” He asked casually. He understood the familial concern, but if the hobbit wanted to be miserable and alone, why not just leave him be. It’s not like they could force him to be happy and sociable. Was it really worth the misery in trying? 

She scoffed. “If one of your dwarves decided they wished to throw themselves to the bottom of your deepest mine, would you just stand by and allow it just because it's ‘what they want’?”

“No, of course not.” He was baffled by the severity of her example. Suicide was entirely different than being antisocial. If a dwarf wished peace and quite for themselves, no one would force them to live otherwise. “Master Baggins is an adult, clearly capable of making his own decisions. I just don’t understand why his wish to be left alone is something to be fought against.”

“You're right. You don’t understand. You don’t seem to understand that Bilbo is a hobbit and not a dwarf. I might as well warn you right now that if you think you can treat him like a dwarf and fulfill your side of the marriage contract, you will fail miserably. He is not a dwarf. Despite how un-hobbitish he behaves, he is still a hobbit.” 

Thorin dipped his head in apology. “It wasn’t not my intent to ignore his nature.”

“Well.” She threw open a door to a room that looked to have been recently prepared. “If you hope to have any success with any of this, you will need to learn to understand hobbits and, more importantly, you will have to learn to understand Bilbo. We’re a lot more complicated than we appear to be, and Bilbo is perhaps the most complex of us all. Passing us off as simpletons and farmers, isn’t going to get you very far, I’m afraid. Hobbit culture is no less nuanced and intricate as anyone else’s.” She ushered him into the room. “This will be your room. I suspect mine won’t be far. The master bedroom is also just a few doors away, not that Bilbo uses it all that much.” She turned to leave.

“I apologize. . . I meant no offense.” He ground out, forcing the humility through his lips. He couldn’t afford to be detested. He needed to earn the favor of these people and pave the way for his own. 

“It’s fine. I just thought you should know you're in for a little more work than I think you bargained for.” She stopped in his doorway. “Try to get some sleep. We’ll be busy tomorrow.” She closed the door on her way out. 

Rubbing a hand over his face, he was starting to think she was right. Just figuring out how to live with his new husband was going to be hard enough, and he had to garner favor with the hobbit population as well. But he would do it. He would master his husband one way or another and find ways to build up his credibility with the other hobbits. 

He examined his room, it was decent sized and comfortable with a large luxurious bed. It even had a small partial washroom of its own with a sink and small toilet. It was nicer than anything they had on the mountain and was even a step up from the inn. 

Wandering out to the entrance hall, he grabbed his things to bring to his room. He stopped outside his door. Adamanta was trying to cajole her grandson out of the study to rest for the night. From the sound of her pleadings, Bilbo had locked himself in again. Listening until she gave up, he slipped into his room before she came into view in the hall. 

Thorin imagined that soon it would be him trying to urge his husband out to eat, sleep, bathe or even just get out of his chair. He shook the image from his head. Marriage? It was just a glorified hobbit-sitting contract. Readying for bed, he hoped that things would get better with time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Bilbo seems more subdued and a new face shows up for work. Wait . . . is that? Lobelia? She came back? Probably just to torment Thorin.


	10. The Assistant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new update schedule is pinned on my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/domesticgoddesswriter) page. Check it out to know when to expect updates for your favorite fics. 😉
> 
> Enjoy! 🥰

Thorin woke early. Thanks to his nap the day before and practically being sent to bed early, he was awake at the crack of dawn. After washing up, he quietly stepped out into the hall. Sounds coming from the direction of the kitchen informed him that he was not the first to stir that morning.

Padding as softly as he could, he found Adamanta already busily setting out jam and biscuits. 

”Good morning.” She placed a platter near him on the table. “Breakfast?”

”I, uh--“

Before he could figure out how to decline the early meal, the front door of the smial opened and clicked shut. They both glanced toward the entryway of the kitchen before sharing a quizzical look. Adamanta shuffled around the table to investigate, and Thorin accompanied her just to be safe. 

In the hall, they fond Bilbo hanging his jacket on the coat rack. 

"Bilbo? I thought you were in your study?” Adamanta eyed him. 

"You thought inaccurately,” Bilbo said blandly and straitened his waistcoat. He still looked exhausted but better groomed. It seemed he'd bathed and changed into fresh clothes at some point in the night.

”Where were you? Bilbo, it’s barely first breakfast!”

”Taking care of business. Too much of yesterday was wasted. We need to get more done today.” He walked passively toward his study.

”Won’t you eat some breakfast?” she called after him before he could get too far. 

Stopping, he seemed to consider. “I . . . could use some tea. I’ll take it in my study,” he returned softly and continued on his way.

Giving Thorin an anxious look, Adamanta hurried back to the kitchen to prepare some tea. Thorin watched his intended leave curiously, wondering about his quiet demeanor. The temperamental hobbit seemed far more subdued than usual. He followed the elder lass into the kitchen and sat at the table, deciding he’d rather force-feed himself a biscuit than deal with his future husband just yet. Nibbling at one, he slowly picked it to pieces as he ate. Suddenly, she dropped a loaded tea-service tray on the table. 

”Take him his tea," she ordered. "All the tea-carts must still be in his study, and you can’t expect little old me to carry this whole tray that far.”

He raised a brow. She handled it just fine a few seconds ago. Still, he knew better than to argue. "All right.” Plus, it would give him an excuse to avoid eating any more. Picking up the tray, he did as he was told. Besides the steaming tea pot, tea tin and honey jar, Ada had included a couple of rolls and some jam. 

Stopping at the study door, Thorin was surprised when he received a soft reply giving him permission to enter. He let himself in and surreptitiously studied his betrothed as he found a tea cart to settle the tray on. Bilbo didn’t even offer him a quick glance, but continued to scratch away with his pen at whatever document he was working on.

Thorin pushed the tea cart over until it was beside Bilbo’s chair. Hovering, he tried to get a look at what the hobbit was working on when he didn’t respond. Most of it was beyond him, but he did pick out the words vineyards and harvest. “Did you sleep at all last night?” he rumbled quietly. 

Setting down his pen, Bilbo pressed a black handkerchief over his nose and leaned tiredly against the desk. “Wasn’t necessary.” He started preparing his tea after tucking his handkerchief away. 

Having seen the strange quirk enough times now, Thorin didn't take the gesture personally. ”Your lack of energy suggests otherwise. You haven’t screamed at anyone yet today.” He poked the slumbering beast when he didn’t get a response. 

"It’s still early,” Bilbo returned flatly, and Thorin was amused into a barely there smirk. He was distracted when Bilbo seemed to search the tray.

”What are you looking for?”

”Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Bilbo waved away the question. "I forgot what time it was." He took his tea and sat back to enjoy it.

"Oh?" Thorin studied the tray curiously. It wasn’t like his future husband to just let something go if it wasn’t to his liking, but there didn’t seem to be anything out of place. It was perhaps a little different than what Lobelia had prepared the morning before. “Is something missing?” 

"It’s fine.” Bilbo relaxed into his chair and sipped at his tea.

Thorin raised a curious brow, but let it be. Slipping around the desk, he took a seat in one of the chairs to better study his hobbit. Bilbo largely ignored him, holding his tea in one hand and a document in his other. 

”Where were you last night?” Thorin dared to ask, a hint of jealous possessiveness slipping into his voice. He wasn’t as quick to assume that Bilbo hadn’t simply been gone all night. Perhaps out calling upon one of his other lovers.

His tone didn’t slip by unnoticed, and Bilbo leveled him with a cold glare. “You are not my keeper, nor am I responsible to make an account of my whereabouts to you.” 

"I am your future husband.”

"By arrangement only. I don’t answer to you.”

Thorin returned the glare. It was true that they weren’t married yet, but did Master Baggins really think that he could continue meeting with his lovers and Thorin would turn a blind eye. It was only a matter of time before their engagement was known throughout the Shire. How humiliating it would be if his intended’s promiscuity continued even then?

Continuing to glower at each other, their spirits silently geared up for battle, but, before they could clash, a ruckus erupted down the hall and trickled in to them. Thorin turned towards the door curiously, breaking their stare off. Sighing, Bilbo took another leisurely sip of tea.

A few moments later, a hobbit burst into the room, panting and stuttering apologies. “I-I-I am s-so sorry, Master B-Bilbo! I didn’t know you were back in town! I’d have been here if I’d known!”

"And I suppose it was simply too much effort to stop by and check, wasn’t it?” Bilbo seemed unimpressed. “Perhaps I should find another hobbit who’s more proactive about doing his job.”

"I am so sorry, Master Bilbo! It won’t happen again! Please don’t fire me!” The new hobbit bowed contritely, wringing his hands as he awaited his boss’s verdict. 

"Stop groveling, Otho. It’s unbecoming.” Bilbo set his cup down. “If I intended to fire you, I wouldn’t have bothered to tell you to get your sorry arse over here this morning. Besides, I have work to do, and, as incompetent as you are, you’re still more useful than ninety percent of the Shire’s population. Now get over here and start sorting. All of these books need to be put away and make sure they get to their proper places! When you’re done with that, you can start making a list of due rents.” He gestured to his desk and the young hobbit spurred into action, eager to appease. 

The hobbit named Otho seemed to belatedly notice Thorin as he shuffled around the desk stacking all the piles together in order to sort them properly. “You’re a dwarf?” he asked anxiously.

"Yes, very astute, Otho.” Bilbo rolled his eyes, getting a sheepish blush from the younger hobbit. “This is Thorin Oakenshield, king of the dwarrow of the Blue Mountains. We’re establishing a large trade agreement. This is Otho Baggins.” He gestured to the new hobbit. “A first cousin and technically next in line for the master title. Reason enough to stay alive,” he grumbled under his breath and took another sip of tea.

”You’re a king?” Otho sounded impressed and slightly intimidated. “I-I didn’t know Master Bilbo did business with kings too.”

”I don’t pay you to chat, Otho.” Bilbo shut down any conversation, and the young hobbit sheepishly returned to his work. 

Thorin studied this Otho fellow as he separated the large stack of documents into various holders sitting on Bilbo’s desk. He could see a slight resemblance between them, but for the most part they were like night and day. At least he wasn't a rival.

Otho wasn’t ugly, per say, but there was absolutely nothing extraordinary about his appearance. He looked like half the hobbits Thorin had seen. Short, curly hair, roundish figure, hairy feet like every other hobbit male. His hair was much darker, no trace of that golden tint in Bilbo’s. His nose was wider, and his eyes just a bit too far apart for Thorin’s taste. 

Whereas Bilbo looked like something out of a fairytale with his delicate fae-like features, his cousin looked entirely average. Though, when Thorin thought about it, Bilbo wasn't entirely unique. He had seen several hobbits that shared various features with his betrothed, but they weren’t Baggins’. They were Tooks. In fact, he might even go so far as to say the biggest difference between the Thain and Bilbo in appearance was simply age, as the older hobbit shared a great many of his grandson’s features. 

The most notable trait Bilbo seemed to share with his Baggins cousin was his short stature. The Tooks seemed to be of a taller and more fae-like sort. Thorin cast an appraising glance back over his intended. At least he was to be married to, in his opinion, a rather attractive hobbit. He could even imagine himself quite enjoying a physical relationship if he could find a way around his betrothed's temper and otherwise disagreeable nature. 

Finishing his tea, Bilbo set his dishes aside to continue working on the page he had been reading over. Thorin grabbed the list he had been working on last night before supper and continued to scratch away at it, choosing to stay in the study to better monitor his intended. 

It wasn’t long before Adamanta showed up with a tray of biscuits, jam and tea. Couldn’t carry it all this way, Thorin’s arse. The tray she was carrying had far more on it than the one he had carried. 

"I’ve contacted a florist, several bakers and cooks, and the party supplies manager, but we still need a tailor and the sooner the better,” she poured tea for everyone. “We also need to decide on a wedding theme, the gift arrangements, and find someone to design the invitations.”

Groaning, Bilbo rubbed at his face. 

”There’s going to be a wedding?” Otho wondered enthusiastically. “Whose?”

”Bilbo’s, of course.”

”Master Bilbo’s?” Otho stared with wide eyes. “To whom? I-I thought you were a confirmed bachelor.” He lowered his voice to almost a whisper, as if it was a secret. 

”The Council saw fit to say otherwise,” Bilbo groused quietly. 

”The Council?”

”Bilbo is to wed Master Thorin here to foster better relations between us and the dwarves,” Adamanta filled him in. 

Otho stared between the two of them, seemingly picking up on the disgruntlement caused by the arrangement. “Oh,” he breathed, looking a bit pale. 

”And we must choose a theme in order to move forward with arrangements and we _must_ find a tailor as soon as possible! It won’t do to have one of the grooms dressed so commonly. This is a high profile wedding! He needs to look like a king!”

”Perhaps I could help with that.” A soft feminine voice flitted in from the doorway. 

”Lobelia!” Adamanta jumped from her seat in elation. 

Thorin only spared a glance at the hobbitess in the doorway before returning his attention to his intended to gauge his response. Bilbo only stared, obviously surprised by her return. 

Gliding into the room slowly, Lobelia hid something behind her back. “I . . . said some harsh things yesterday,” she confessed softly, coming to a stop in front of his desk. Pulling a bunch of bright purple flowers from behind her, she plucked one of the flowers from the bouquet and held it out to Bilbo. 

Bilbo glance at the flower then back to her. “I don’t need that from you.”

"I know . . . but it’s only fair. After all, you sent me a whole bouquet. The least I can do is return one flower.”

"No, I didn’t.” Bilbo eyes narrowed. 

"Of course, you did.”

"No, I didn’t.” 

"it says ‘from Bilbo Baggins’ right here.” She pulled a small card from the center of the bouquet.

"Let me see that,” he demanded, and she handed it over. He stood to take it, flipping open the small folded piece of paper. Staring at it baffled, it took a moment before recognition hit him. His head whipping up with a glare, he grounding out through gritted teeth, “Grandmother.”

"Yes, dear,” Adamanta answered innocently, feigning complete ignorance. “What a nice gesture! How sweet of you, Bilbo!”

His brows furrowing, Bilbo turned back to Lobelia who grinned sweetly. Thorin waited for him to further deny the act, but his intended’s gaze flitted around the room, taking stock of his audience. 

Instead, Bilbo sighed, straightening his back and tugging his waistcoat into place. He reluctantly took the offered flower. “Thank you,” he grumbled before sitting back down.

"Thank _you_ for the bouquet,” Lobelia returned victoriously. Bilbo jerked his head in the slightest hint of a nod and giving her a reproachful glare. 

Thorin was confused and, frankly, disappointed by the exchange. He had thought that the lass had been dealt with. Why would Bilbo take credit for sending the flowers if he didn’t? Was this about some aspect of hobbit culture he didn’t understand? Bilbo seemed reluctant to further deny the claims in view of an audience.

"Now, about those seamstresses. I’ve already sent a requests to have one of them come over today.” Lobelia took the flower back she had given him and cut it short. “I asked her to come between second breakfast and elevensies.” She stepped around and slipped the short stem into Bilbo’s waistcoat pocket.

When he made no effort to stop her, she leaned against him nuzzling, running her hands though his hair, and touching him far too much for Thorin’s taste. “If you must marry this . . . _dwarf_ , you will at least do it in the finest clothes fit for a hobbit.”

Thorin barely suppressed a growl when her gaze landed on him. After all but chasing her out the day before, why was Bilbo letting her fawn all over him? He didn’t like the familiarity or the intimacy. Bilbo was to be _his_ husband, and dwarrow _did not_ share.

"All right. Well done.” Bilbo finally shrugged her off. “If you’re going to be here, go make yourself useful. . . Go make second breakfast.”

”Of course, love.” She kissed his temple and swaggered out victoriously, sending Thorin a smug look. 

Thorin’s scowl followed her as far as it could without turning his head and being too obvious about it. He really didn’t like that hobbittess. 

”Well, since we have some time before the seamstress gets here, why don’t you brainstorm some ideas for the theme and whatnot,” Bilbo suggested to his grandmother before returning his attention to his work. 

”That sounds like a good idea.”

The four of them each went about their business in silence. Thorin still inwardly fumed over the audacity of the hobbitess. Only Adamanta would occasionally break the silence with an energetic suggestion that was promptly ignored by her grandson. Thorin wondered if anything would get his approval.

They worked until Bilbo suddenly stopped and stood, signaling breaking time for second breakfast apparently. Otho quickly stacked the piles he was working on for later, and even Adamanta set aside her papers where she jotted down her ideas. It was like these hobbits had internal alarms set for meal times, though for Bilbo it seemed to be only for second breakfast. . . and only when Lobelia was cooking it.

Filing out after Bilbo, they all headed to the dining room. Thorin didn’t get to walk with him like the morning before, and he noticed that both Adamanta and Otho lagged behind his intended by at least a step, neither of them walking directly by his side. He was struck with another wave of nostalgia. Even Bilbo’s closest relatives acknowledged and respected his position, showing deference even with little things like this. Trailing behind, he observed the scene.

It was easy to forget when dealing with his tantrum prone future husband, but Bilbo was all but king of the Shire, second to the Thain only in title. Beyond his lover and his grandparents, Thorin hadn’t seen anyone stretch those boundaries of respect, and even they quickly complied when an order was given.

Soon they were all seated at the dining room table while Lobelia filled it with food. The seat on Bilbo’s right was taken by his grandmother while he was again directed to Bilbo’s left. He rankled at the slight of his rank. At the very least, he should be on Bilbo’s right by now.

”In the Shire, there are two standards of status. Obviously there’s a title status relating to master’s and mistresses and one’s relation to them and a ranking among the title holders themselves. But there’s also a social status, especially in private and familial settings. If this was a public setting, you would of course be ranked above Ada, but, because it is a private setting and she is the grandmother of myself, the master of this house, her social ranking is above yours, hence she receives the right hand seat.” Bilbo seemed to have somehow picked up on Thorin’s disgruntlement. “It’s not a slight to you or your rank. . . Once we’re . . . married, you will be the higher social rank.”

”I . . . was not aware.” Thorin gave him a short nod of thanks but was ignored.

”What? Does it bother you? To be lesser than a Mistress?” Lobelia prodded as she took the seat next to Ada. 

”I am not accustomed to being treated of lessor rank . . . At least not by anyone but men,” Thorin returned lowly, restraining a growl.

”Well, as Bilbo said, private and public settings can be different. It’s important to learn to distinguish between the two,” Adamanta added helpfully. 

”I will do my best.” Thoirn dipped his chin respectfully. He had so much to learn. He didn't know if he would ever learn everything--if he would ever figure out his future husband. As simple as he seemed at times--like a spoiled child--Thorin couldn't help but get the feeling that this Master Baggins was far more complicated than he seemed on the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The purple flowers mentioned were purple hyacinths which represent regret/apology and the desire for forgiveness. 
> 
> Next time: Bilbo reaches out for some delivery aid and a couple visitors come to call. Thorin discovers another side of his future husband.


	11. The Dunedain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!🥰

Bilbo was the first to start loading his plate, and the others quickly followed. Like before, he loaded up two plates higher than anyone else’s, much to his grandmother’s satisfaction, and ate every bit of it. 

”Well, it’s good to know you eat well at least some of the time,” Adamanta praised as she cleaned her own plate. 

”Only if I make it. Isn’t that right, darling?” Lobelia supplied, sending Thorin a smug smirk. 

”Oh, really?” Adamanta sounded intrigued.

”I have her trained to make things the way I like them. Took forever. Her cooking was terrible,” Bilbo grumbled, leaning back in his seat satisfied. 

Lobelia made a scandalized noise, and Thorin didn’t bother to suppress his smirk. “It was not! I was inexperienced at worst! It’s not my fault you’re so finicky and hard to please!”

Bilbo only shrugged, completely unashamed, and Lobelia huffed at him as she cleared his plates. 

”It’s alright, dear. He seems quite pleased with your cooking now,” Adamanta soothed with a chuckle. Lobelia huffed again and disappeared into the kitchen with a load of dishes. “Never insult the cook.” Adamanta advised across the table at Thorin. “It’s terrible manners and could very easily spark a rather aggressive family feud. Bilbo’s a terrible role model. Don’t follow his example.”

Thorin raised an amused brow at his intended who shrugged unrepentantly. “If you lie to someone about the quality of their product, they’ll never improve it. Lobelia’s a good cook because I told her she was terrible, and she was determined to prove me otherwise,” Bilbo supplied blandly. 

”Still, it’s atrocious manners. Poor dear must have felt terrible,” Adamanta countered. 

”I don’t anymore.” Lobelia jumped in as she brought Bilbo his tea. 

”She has no reason to feel terrible now. She’s one of the best cooks in the Shire,” Bilbo praised casually with a single nod of thanks for his tea. Lobelia beamed proudly, too delighted to even remember to be smug about it. 

”Well, that is high praise,” Ada replied impressed. 

”It, uh, it’s certainly the best _I’ve_ ever tasted,” Otho added softly only to be intimidated back into silence by a dark glare from Bilbo. 

”Well, only the best for you, love.” Lobelia pecked the master's cheek with a kiss, sufficiently pacifying him, and stroked a hand through his curls before grabbing another handful of dishes to take to the kitchen.

Grunting a vague reply, Bilbo stirred the contents of another little paper packet into his tea. Something clicked in Thorin’s mind. He had almost been too distracted to notice, but _that’s_ what had been missing from Bilbo's tea this morning. There had been no little paper packet. So, Bilbo expected whatever was in those packets, but didn’t seem concerned when they were absent.

An echoing knock at the front door broke him from his musings. Bilbo directed an expectant glare at his cousin. 

”I’ll, uh, I’ll just go get that.” Otho got up and hurried to the door. 

”Lobelia! Set a couple plates. We have guests,” Bilbo ordered, getting up from his chair and straightening his vest. The lass didn’t ask any questions but immediately did as she was told. 

”Are you expecting company?” Adamanta wondered curiously. 

”Yes,” Bilbo replied, and Thorin rose to follow him into the hall. 

To Thorin’s surprise, it wasn’t hobbits coming to call on Master Baggins, but two grown men that Otho was ushering down the hall. They were dressed in dark garb and had a rough look about them. Recognizing them as rangers, Thorin took a protective stance behind his future husband.

”Welcome, gentlemen. I see you received my letter,” Bilbo greeted. 

”We did indeed, Master Baggins. We came as soon as we got it.” The men each gave him a small bow.

”Thank you for coming.” Bilbo nodded to each of them in return. “Come in. Have a seat. I’ll have a meal set before you in moments.” He directed as they ducked into the dining room.

“Thank you, Master Baggins. I have to admit, the meals are perhaps the best perk of doing business with you,” One of the men confided. 

Adamanta bustled about, helping clear the table and reset it for their guests while Lobelia prepared more food in the kitchen. The older hobbitess subtly directed Thorin over to Bilbo’s right while the men were ushered to his left. At least he was higher ranked than men.

Bilbo took his seat, signaling the others to do so as well. Thorin took the seat on his right, across from the men, while Otho hovered behind Bilbo’s chair, awaiting further orders. 

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Bilbo added once they were all seated, pulling out his little notepad and flipping through it. “The Shire, and I personally, have recently taken on a rather large endeavor, one with some rather urgent concerns, and your continued and timely assistance is greatly appreciated. You will of course be generously compensated for your contributions,” he began diplomatically. 

“It’s always a pleasure doing business with you, Master Baggins. We've guarded your Shire’s borders long before you reached out to us, expecting not even acknowledgement in return because we believed you were a people worth protecting. You have already proven us correct many times over in your generous gifts of food and supplies. Any further assistance we can offer you, we would gladly do so without further compensation,” The other man revealed in all sincerity.

Thorin raised an impressed and slightly incredulous brow. This tantrum prone hobbit had managed to secure such loyalty from such rogue-like men? Perhaps he was more than a spoiled, if talented, young hobbit with more title than he could handle.

“I need no favors from you. Service without compensation is bad business. You provide services I require, and I have the money and goods to pay for them.” Bilbo dismissed the offer. “Men nor hobbit’s can live on gratitude alone.” He sipped his tea calmly.

“Well spoken. I expect no less from you, Master Baggins.” The first man grinned. “Now, tell me. What is it we can do for you?”

“Otho, there is a small bundle of letters on my desk. Fetch them,” Bilbo ordered and the younger hobbit took off. “Gentlemen, you may have noticed my distinctive company.” He gestured to Thorin. “This is Thorin II Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, king of the dwarrow of Ered Luin.” He introduced as the men eyed the dwarf suspiciously. “Thorin, this is Eradan and Halbarad, of the Dúnedain rangers.” Thorin straightened under their scrutiny even as he returned it. 

“I reached out to the Dúnedain about ten years ago when I learned of them, and we’ve enjoyed a very friendly and supportive cooperation between our peoples since.” Bilbo explained for his future husband's benefit. “Master Thorin recently brought a cooperative proposal before the Shire council requesting his people be granted space and opportunity to thrive here in the Shire as the Blue Mountains have proven . . uninhabitable, even for dwarrow. The proposal was approved and arrangements are already underway to make it possible to move his people into the Shire, but, because of the terrible living conditions on the mountain, there is an urgent concern for those most vulnerable.”

“I called for you because I have no fast and reliable means of passing information between here and Blue Mountains and will need your assistance until I can establish such permanent means.”

“You wish us to be your mail carriers,” Eradan summarized. 

“Basically.” Bilbo nodded. “For now, until I can make more convenient arrangements. Your skills with the wilderness and horses makes you the most reliable option at the moment. From what I understand, living conditions on the mountain are perilous.” He looked to Thorin who nodded in confirmation. “I need to be able to communicate with the mountain’s population in order to make sure those most susceptible to its dangers are transplanted into the Shire before winter arrives.”

The men looked contemplative, and there was a short pause in the conversation as the lasses carried in and served several trays of food before the men, encouraging them to eat their fill. The visitors remained thoughtful as they loaded their plates. 

“You intend to relocate _all_ of the dwarves in the Blue Mountains into the Shire?” Halbarad asked receiving a nod from Bilbo. “That is a very . . . generous and ambitious endeavor. What have they done to deserve such effort on your part?” Thorin gave him a glare. 

Bilbo shrugged. “They offer trade, labor, and military assistance. The council has weighed the pros and cons. It will take . . . a lot of work.” He sighed. “But in the long run, the Shire stands to gain considerably from their addition.”

“The situation must be dire indeed for the king himself to come begging for charity,” Eradan poked. 

“We beg for nothing. We offer equally beneficial trade and assistance,” Thorin growled. 

Eradan nodded. “Later, perhaps. But right now, your people are the only one’s benefiting. It's the hobbits who will be paying for your arrangement up front in the hopes of receiving benefits in the future. Tell me, Thorin, king of Ered Luin, will they receive those benefits? Or will they be forced to work for your sake only to be replayed with prejudice and rejection?” He leaned over his plate and leveled Thorin with a narrowed gaze. 

Thorin snarled, a curse on his tongue, but, before he could speak it, Bilbo’s hand appeared in front of him for silence. He bristled from the order but complied. 

“The council has already taken those concerns into account and prepared the contract accordingly. The dwarrow will be under contractual obligation to fulfill certain duties as repayment for our part in getting them settled as well as required to contribute as much as they are able in labor, skills and supplies.” Bilbo explained. 

“And what if they turn on you later?” Halbarad wondered. 

“Arrangements have already been made to encourage unity and cooperation between our peoples.”

“No offense, Master Baggins, But hobbits and dwarrow are both very reclusive peoples. What means would you use to overcome that?”

“Marriage.” 

“Marriage? . . . Between whom?” Eradan asked suspiciously. 

“Thorin and I are to be wed in less than three weeks,” Bilbo confessed softly. “It was decided only a marriage of this scale would be effective.” He sipped at his tea, avoiding eye contact.

The men’s gazes flickered between the two of them studiously. “And you agreed to this?” Halbarad studied his hobbit host.

“I was . . . elected by the council, but, yes, I had the final say, and I agreed.”

The man’s critiquing gaze landed on Thorin. “Well, it would be in his best interest to treat you well, I would think.”

“I will honor our marriage contract,” Thorin growled.

“See that you do,” Eradan agreed. “Master Baggins is vital to our cooperation with the Shire. We would not hesitate to . . . protect our own investments should any harm come to his person.”

“The dwarrow are not lovers of hobbits, but they value their own success. They will honor the contracts for their own sake,” Bilbo interfered. 

“As we said, we are happy to aid you however we can, Master Baggins. Simply let us know what you need from us, and we will see it done.” Eradan sent one last warning glance to Thorin. 

“Your aid is always appreciated.” Bilbo held his hand up for the bundle of letters that Otho had retrieved. “You can deliver these to the Blue Mountains for me. Make sure they make it to Dis, daughter of Thrain, or Balin, advisor of the king. I will provide any and all supplies you will need for the trip. Let Otho know what you need, and he will fetch it. I would offer to house you for the night, but it’s imperative that these letters make it to the mountain as soon as possible. I also need you to wait and return with any responding letters, if you would.”

“Of course.” Halbarad nodded. “We will leave as soon as we finish this mouthwatering food and collect the needed supplies.” Both the men dug into their food enthusiastically.

“Take your time. Good food is meant to be savored. Tell me of the Dúnedain. How goes things for your people? Is there anything your could use supply-wise?”

The men chatted between bites, sharing the latest news of their people while they ate. Bilbo nodded and seemed interested enough in even the mundane gossip though he never cracked even the slightest smile. The men didn’t seem bothered though, and their exchanges were pleasant. 

Thorin studied this new professional side of his intended carefully. He didn’t know if he should be honored or offended that Bilbo never adopted his business facade when dealing with him. Though it did inspire a primal satisfaction that something about himself ripped any semblance of distance and propriety from his future husband when they interacted. Whether because of hate or something else, Thorin seemed to be able to get under his skin and strip away the carefully practiced professional mask Bilbo was currently sporting.

Despite Bilbo’s limited responses, the men managed to chat consistently until they had cleaned their plates of everything set before them. “That was delicious.” Eradan rubbed his stomach as he stretched. “As usual.” He smiled at Lobelia as she cleared away the dishes. She blushed faintly and gave him a polite smile in return.

“The best food and the best service. I expect nothing less in the home of Master Baggins. Your lass’s cooking is exquisite,” Halbarad agreed. 

“I expect the best,” Bilbo answered blandly and stood from his chair. “Let Otho know if there’s anything he can fetch for you. Before you leave, I have something for you as well. Master Thorin can show you out while I fetch it. I’ll meet you outside.”

Raising an eyebrow at the instructions, Thorin rose from his seat to comply. He wasn’t keen on letting these men out of his sight anyway, especially not around his intended. Men were men, in his experience. It didn’t matter what race they were from.

Bilbo disappeared, and Thorin gestured the men out before him. He stood outside with them while Otho ran off to fetch a few things. Eradan came to stand beside him as Halbarad readied their horses.

“Master Baggins is a generous soul. It would be inadvisable for you to use that to your advantage.” Eradan subtly warned. 

Thorin snorted. Were they even thinking of the same hobbit?

“He’s more than an ally to us. He is a good friend to our people. Do not make the mistake of thinking this gentle race is unprotected. If any harm comes to them by your doing, you will have the army of the Dúnedain to contend with. We will be watching.” 

“You only care because you stand to lose something. What do men care of the troubles of these simple people?” Thorin growled lowly.

“We have found that their ‘simpleness’ is merely a misunderstanding of their ‘values.’ They value love, life and happiness, over wealth, rank and power. They value peace, and so they enjoy it. Is that not something worth protecting?”

Thorin had no reply. Such things sounded ideal of course, but they were often lost in the pursuit of the latter for most peoples. Perhaps the hobbits were wiser than they seemed in the ways of life. Or did their simplicity simply spare them from such complex concerns?

“I apologize for the wait.” Bilbo emerged from the smial. “I want you to take this . . . for any unforeseen needs you may have.” He handed over a small pouch. 

Taking it, Eradan peered inside. “Money?” He questioned in surprise. 

“It’s not much, but it should be enough to cover any expenses for your trip.” 

“Is that a gold coin?”

“I threw in a couple, just in case. Keep whatever you don’t use. I won’t have you lacking supplies or funds while in my service.” Bilbo waved him off. 

“This is very generous.” Eradan closed the pouch, looking like he might hand it back. 

“Keep it.” Bilbo cut him off. “Wealth is meant to be spent, not horded. I can think of no better use for it than to pay for good service.”

Smiling fondly, Eradan hid the money bag in his clothes. “You are as kind as you are generous.” He gave a small bow despite Bilbo dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “We will see that your letters reach the mountain quickly and safely.”

“Thank you. Your aid is greatly appreciated.” Bilbo nodded in return. 

Thorin came to stand by his future husband as they watched the two men load up the supplies Otho had retrieved and mount up. Sending Bilbo a final salute, the men spurred their horses down the road. 

“You didn’t mention you had connections with the Dúnedain,” Thorin rumbled next to his intended. 

“I have many connections, Thorin. The Dúnedain being just one of them.” Bilbo shot the dwarf an annoyed glance. 

Before they could return inside, a hobbitess stopped outside the gate. “Hello! Master Baggins? I-I’m a seamstress. Lobelia asked me to come over today?” She called to them timidly. 

Bilbo sighed but waved her in. “Come in. We have business to discuss.”

Shuffling in quickly, she followed them into the house. 

“Oh, Mrs. Grub! You’re here right on time!” Lobelia greeted after they had entered. “Bilbo, Mrs. Grub has been running a small scale seamstress business from home.” 

“It’s nothing much. The Bolgers still get most of the customers.” Mrs. Grub shook her head.

“But her skill is certainly not inferior. I’ve had her make a few things for me,” Lobelia added. 

“We’ll see,” Bilbo replied unimpressed. “I care about quality, not storefronts. If you want my business, prove your skill to me. You can start by getting Master Thorin’s measurements. He and I will each be requiring a complete wedding suit. Come. We’ll do this in my study, so I can multitask.” He lead the way into the house. 

Mrs. Grub gave Lobelia a wide-eyed look, but the lass only smiled and ushered her friend along. Thorin followed the lasses, not looking forward to being poked and prodded. What exactly were they planning to make him wear, anyway?

Bilbo directed Otho to clear a space in the center of the room and Lobelia ushered Thorin out of most of his layers, so Mrs. Grub could get accurate measurements. He growled and grumbled though it all. Poor Mrs. Grub seemed terrified of the whole exchange, but begrudgingly complied when Adamanta further ordered the dwarf about. 

Sitting behind his desk, Bilbo seemingly completely ignoring the whole spectacle as Thorin was posed, measured and prodded. But occasionally, Thorin thought he caught his intended peering over his spectacles at him before immediately looking back to his work as if nothing had been out of the ordinary. 

Raising a silent brow, Thorin was intrigued by his intended’s subtle attentions. Perhaps it was a bit optimistic to think he himself was inspiring those secret glances, but if he posed and rotated a little more willingly, no one was any the wiser. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Wedding planning! Thorin and Bilbo are both measured for their new wedding suits, but Bilbo is not pleased with any of the suggested designs.


	12. The Invitations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a poll up [here](https://domesticgoddesswriter.tumblr.com/post/633760662354558976/5th-monday-bonus-poll) for November's 5th Monday bonus updates. Be sure to get your votes in. 😁
> 
> Apparently I wrote half a chapter at some point, and, when I came back to continue the fic, forgot and started a new chapter. So, rather than giving you only a half-typical-length chapter, I decided to just add it to the full-sized chapter that came after it. After waiting a whole month for an update, I thought you deserved more than half a chapter.
> 
> So, Enjoy! This one's a bit longer than usual. 😅🥰

After finishing with Thorin, Adamanta dragged Bilbo over for his turn. He too was divested of his outermost layers until only a thin shirt and his trousers remained. He stood statue-like and serene as the lasses took his measurements, listening to Otho read the document he had been working on.

Thorin watched, unabashedly letting his gaze rake over his future husband’s lightly clothed form while everyone else was busy. Adamanta muttered and tutted disapprovingly as they took her grandson’s measurements. Clearly they were not to her liking. 

Even Thorin could tell that the hobbit was severely lacking in the soft padding that was so typical of his kind. Even the massive second breakfasts he devoured weren’t enough to make up for his unenthusiastic nibbling during the other meals. 

Bilbo studiously ignored their comments until he was finished and slipped back into his vest and cravat before resuming his work. Thorin’s gaze was still draw to his intended even after most of him was hidden behind his desk. 

Adamanta and Lobelia disappeared soon after to prepare for elevensies while Mrs. Grub sketched out some designs at a small table. Soon the hobbitesses called for a break as they ushered in a couple tea carts. Only Bilbo seemed to ignore the summons as everyone else abandoned their work in order to sit and relax with a cup of tea and some sweet pastries. 

“Bilbo, love. Rest.” Lobelia delivered a cup to his desk, setting a hand on his shoulder before running it up his neck and into his curls. “Mrs. Grub has a few quick design sketches for you to look at.”

Setting the document he was currently working on down with a sigh, Bilbo rubbed at his eyes, slipping off his spectacles. “Let me see them.” He stood, grabbed his tea, and walked around to stand by the small table where the sketches were laid out. Drinking his tea with one hand, he flipped through them with his other.

“No. . . No. . . No. . . No. . . No!” He threw sketch after sketch over his shoulder as he vetoed each design. “None of these will work. He’s a bloody dwarf! We’re not dressing him in traditional hobbit clothing!” Placing his cup on the table, he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“But it’s a _hobbit_ wedding,” Mrs. Grub defended meekly. 

“No. It is a _blended_ wedding. We might as well make that the theme. He will not be dressing up like a hobbit any more than I will be dressing up like a dwarf!” He swatted the remaining pile of papers of the table irritably. 

“But we have no dwarven seamstresses, Bilbo. How are we supposed to design dwarf clothing?” Adamanta tried to reason.

Bilbo groaned. “It doesn’t have to be a perfect replica. If the theme is a uniting of two peoples, it only needs to heavily reflect dwarven taste. Whatever hobbit influences it retains can be attributed to the blending of style. Is there no one in the Shire who is capable of designing beyond hobbit fashion?!”

There was silence as the hobbits exchanged glances. There wasn’t much of a demand for any fashion from anywhere beyond the Shire. Bilbo ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Incompetent simpletons!” 

Lobelia gasped, attracting everyone’s attention. “I might know just who you need!” She tried to restrain her excitement. “I have a friend who moved back here from Bree a few years again. She used to work in a tailor shop there. She worked on man and dwarf clothing. She mentioned to me a while back that she wanted to start her own seamstress business but didn’t think there would be much of a demand for her more exotic styles.”

“Does this hobbitess have a name?” Bilbo asked with a hint of irritation. 

“Daisy May Brown. She lives over in Bywater. If we send for her now, she could be here before afternoon tea.”

Bilbo nodded once and walked over to a shelf that held a small box. Plucking a few coins from it, he tossed them at Otho who barely managed to catch them, almost tossing his tea in the air in the process. “Fetch a cart and go get her. Tell her she’s been summoned for official business.” 

Otho gaped dumbly. “But . . . elevensies!” He gestured weekly towards a tea tray.

Bilbo leveled him with a dark glare, the air in the room feeling heavier for it. Otho gulped audibly and stuffed the rest of his tart into his mouth before grabbing several more for the road. “Yesh, shir,” he complied through stuffed cheeks and paused to gulp down the last few gulps of his tea before sprinting out of the study. 

“You shouldn’t be so hard on him,” Adamanta tutted, sipping at her tea. 

“He’s useless and incompetent.” Bilbo returned to his tea and just looked generally disgruntled. 

“If that were true, my dear, you wouldn’t keep him around.”

“Not true. He just happens to be less useless and incompetent that most of the Shire. He should be grateful I tolerate him at all.”

“He must be,” Lobelia giggled. “Since he keeps coming back after all your berating.”

“He comes because his father insists. Uncle Longo’s still bitter I got the title and hopes I’ll die young and without heirs so Otho can get it. Yet thinks his own son is too incompetent to handle it. Hence he’s forced to work for me in the hope that he’ll learn enough to maintain the considerable wealth I’ve managed to acquire.”

“Bilbo!” Adamanta gasped. “You don’t know that! Your uncle’s been nothing but supportive!”

“I know enough,” Bilbo returned quietly and turned to gaze out one of the study windows. 

There was a short silence before Lobelia broke it. “I don’t know. His father may demand it, but I think he wants to work for you. I think he admires you. You just scare the daylights out of him,” she ended with a small giggle. 

Bilbo’s head turned just enough to aim an ear at them. “Like I said, incompetent.”

“We can’t all be geniuses, dear,” Adamanta chuckled. 

“Should still aspire to be more than idiots,” he grumbled into his tea. 

“Oh, goodness! Listen to you! You're so hard to please!” his grandmother scolded lightly. “Stop grumbling about the inadequacy of the world and come tell me about this blended concept you have for the wedding theme!” She waved him over. 

Sighing, Bilbo abandoned his window. “There’s nothing much to tell. We need to incorporate elements of both cultures into the ceremony, be it style, gifts or food. Both cultures need to be represented in the most unified way possible.” 

“But we don’t know anything about dwarf culture!” Mrs. Grub argued, still put out about her designs being so thoroughly rejected. 

“Gee, if only we had a dwarf around to ask about these sort of things,” Bilbo replied sarcastically, lacking his usual energy.

“Of course! You’ll need to tell us about dwarvish weddings!” Adamanta directed at Thorin, putting him on the spot. 

“Actually, dwarrow don’t really have weddings,” the dwarf countered cautiously. 

“What?!” “Oh that’s right.” Adamanta spoke over Lobelia’s incredulous cry. “Well, you’ll just have to share some dwarven equivalents as we work through the arrangements. We’ll figure out how best to merge our two ways of doing things as we go.”

Bilbo shook his head tiredly and sat down next to Lobelia on the couch, letting his head fall back to rest his eyes. Lobelia snuggled up next to him, laying her head on his shoulder and weaving an arm around his. 

“So, remind me again what dwarves do If not weddings?” Adamanta ordered, ignoring the cuddling happening on the couch. 

Thorin pried his gaze away and forced himself not to look as annoyed as he was by it. He tried to distract himself by describing the processes usually involved with a dwarven marriage arrangement. It didn’t help much. He was still distinctly irritated by the time he was done. 

“That is . . . rather simple,” Adamanta remarked when he was done. “There doesn’t seem to be much to merge.”

“It doesn’t have to be wedding elements. The culture just needs to be represented, right? So we just need to figure out what parts of dwarven culture will blend well with our own wedding arrangements.” Lobelia suggested, startling Bilbo out of a doze. He grumbled an affirmative and leaned his cheek against her head. Reaching for his hand, she threaded their fingers together, sending Thorin a smug glare as she snuggled closer. 

Thorin crossed his arms and seethed quietly, his own spirit threatening to emerge and intimidate. The air got stuffy despite his efforts to restrain it. Poor Mrs. Grub sipped her tea anxiously, trying not to get involved. 

Lobelia didn’t even flinch, confident in her lover’s protection. 

Finally, Adamanta cleared her throat loudly. “Well, I think that’s long enough for elevensies!” She announced, trying to break the tension. “Bilbo, dear. Perhaps we should get back to work?”

Bilbo stirred from another light doze and tried to rub the drowsiness from his face. “You’re right. I’m wasting time!” He tapped Lobelia’s knee. She released him with a pout, and he stood up and stretched before heading back to his desk. 

Lobelia gave the older hobbitess a disgruntled look. “Just when he was resting.” 

“Well, stop trying to instigate,” Adamanta returned just as quietly despite looking apologetic. “Perhaps you could sketch some design ideas for Bilbo while we wait for Miss Brown.” She suggested to Mrs. Grub as Bilbo and Lobelia busied themselves with their respective jobs. “You and I can discuss patterns. We have invitations to design!” She bossed at Thorin next.

They discussed aesthetics, the dwarf explaining that dwarrow preferred geometric angles and designs, while Mrs. Grub quietly sketched away. Lobelia had left to begin making lunch, so the room had fallen quiet save for Thorin and his future in-law's soft chatter. Bilbo remained busy at his desk.

Occasionally sneaking looks at his intended, Thorin found himself inexplicably draw to the master. Bilbo remained focused on his work, though, and didn't seem to notice his furtive glances.

"That is an . . . interesting design choice." Adamanta studied the little sample Thorin had drawn. "Hobbits prefer motifs that include natural elements, particularly flowers, and follow a more curling design like vines." 

"Hobbit and dwarf styles seem to be very different. Is it even possible to reconcile the two?" Mrs. Grub wondered defensively. She still sounded sore about her designs being thrown out.

"There must be some middle ground that we have in common," Thorin insisted, though he couldn't think of what it would be.

"Certainly! I'm sure we can make it work . . . somehow." Adamanta studied the angular shapes again. "Hmm. Perhaps we could do something with house emblems. What do you think, Bilbo? . . . Bilbo?" She and Thorin both turned when she didn't receive an answer. The master wasn't at his desk.

"Where did he go? He was just there." Thorin searched the study.

"He, uh, he must be in the washroom. There's a little one in the corner there behind the desk. I'm sure he's fine." The older lass's voice didn't quite carry the reassurance of her words, and Thorin noticed the inconsistency.

"Why wouldn't he be fine?" he asked suspiciously. Why was he getting the feeling there was something they weren't telling him? 

"No reason. Like I said, I'm sure he's fine." Adamanta replied with a dismissive tone. "Now, you are a king. Do you have a coat of arms or some sort of symbol for your family." 

"I do."

"Let's see it."

Thorin took another piece of paper and began to draw the emblem of the line of Durin, but he made sure to check frequently for Bilbo's return. The longer his hobbit's absence dragged on, the more suspicious he became. He and Adamant made little progress by the time Lobelia arrived to announce that lunch was ready. Bilbo was still missing. 

"Break time! Lunch is ready," the younger lass sang as she glided into the study. "Where's Bilbo?"

"Just freshening up. I'm sure he'll be out any minute." Adamanta collected their pages for later review.

"Are you sure he didn't sneak off somewhere?" Thorin stood and stretched.

"Bilbo does not _sneak off_ like some burglar!" Lobelia snapped. "Head to the table. I'll make sure he joins us."

"You?" Thorin crossed his arms defiantly.

"Yes. Mrs. Grub. You'll be joining us for lunch as well, of course."

"Go on." Adamanta shooed Thorin out before her. "He'll be along shortly."

Thorin suppressed a snarl as they left, Lobelia alone staying to fetch the master of the smial. Certainly he was more qualified to call on his intended in the washroom. Did the hobbitess intend to march in and check on Bilbo? Fortunately, Bilbo and Lobelia both arrived in the dining room within only minutes after the others. At least they couldn't have possibly gotten up to too much in such a short amount of time. 

Studying his hobbit surreptitiously, Thorin inspected the master as his intended took his seat at the head of the table. Bilbo looked pale and tired, but Thorin was beginning to suspect that was the norm considering how little the hobbit ate and slept. 

"Is everything all right, Bilbo?" Adamanta asked casually.

"Everything's fine," Bilbo's replied, but Thorin didn't miss the small sigh that escaped with his answer.

Lobelia found her seat, and Bilbo slipped something onto his plate, initiating the meal. Adamanta talked at him about the progress or lack there of that she and Thorin had made, while the master picked at his food. "Our styles are just so different. I don't know how to mix them. Even Master Thorin's emblem is all sharp edges and angles. What am I supposed to do with that?" She threw up her hands. 

"You're probably trying too hard." Bilbo pushed his food around his plate, very little of it actually making it to his mouth. 

"We're on a very tight schedule! We have hundreds of invitations to make and send out! In three weeks! Even if we could get them started tomorrow, we may not be able to get them delivered throughout the entire Shire!"

"We'll hire multiple transcribers if necessary." Bilbo seemed unconcerned. "And we _will_ be starting tomorrow. You need to decide on a design by tonight."

"I'm telling you, it's impossible! Hobbits and dwarves have nothing in common! I don't know what to do!"

Sighing, Bilbo turned to Thorin. "What do you think? Do you agree?"

Thorin raised a brow, more surprised that Bilbo was seeking his opinion than by the question itself. "Our aesthetic styles do seem to be quite contrasting. If there is a common ground, we've not found it yet."

Bilbo thought quietly for a moment. "Describe yourself using only symbols or items."

"What?"

"It's a brainstorming activity," Bilbo explained with slight exasperation. "Think of things you associate yourself with. Don't think too hard. Just name off the first things that come to you."

"Um . . . " Thorin tried to focus despite everyone's eyes on him. "A hammer."

"What else?" Bilbo nodded for him to continue.

"I don't know." Thorin shrugged. "A sword? Durin blue." He listed when Bilbo gestured him to continue. 

"What is 'Durin blue'?" Adamanta interrupted.

"It's the color of the Durin family." Thorin fished out a small pouch hidden in his clothes. "It's considered the color of kings. My royal robes would be largely this color and fabric . . . if I had any."

Adamant peered over the table at the small pouch, but Thorin wasn't inclined to pass it around. It held his most valuable possessions. 

"May I?" Bilbo reached out tentatively.

Resisting snatching it away, Thorin nodded. 

As if somehow sensing Thorin's unease at the request, Bilbo didn't take the pouch from his hand. Merely rubbing the fabric through his fingers, he studied the texture of it. His small fingers brushed against the calloused skin on Thorin's hands before he quickly pulled his hand away.

His heart pounding in his chest, Thorin stared at his intended. There was often sparks between them, but never like this. The soft, barely-there touches of Bilbo's fingers had left a tingling warmth in his own. Thorin had never experienced anything like it. Trying to act as if nothing had happened, he hid his pouch away again. He wondered why he hadn't notice such a feeling before, but, as far as he could remember, this was the first time they had ever touched.

"What else?"

"Excuse me?"

"You've only listed three things. What else?"

"Um . . . I don't know. A mountain. A crown. The Arkenstone. Ravens, maybe."

"Why ravens?" Bilbo seemed curious.

Really? He was more interested in birds than the Arkenstone, jewel of Erebor. "Ravens were a big part of Ereborian culture. They served my forefathers."

"But not you."

"No." Thorin dipped his head.

"Anything else?"

Thorin shrugged. "A harp. An oak shield. That's all I can think of." He shook his head. Wasn't that enough?

"You play the harp?" Adamanta wondered intrigued.

"Yes."

"What do you mean an oak shield? What's it's significance?" Bilbo redirected.

"Oakenshield is my warrior name. In the battle of Azanulbizar I defeated the orc Azog by deflecting his attack with an oak branch when I had no weapon. The solid wood saved my life, and I earned the name Oakenshield."

"Interesting," Bilbo hummed, looking distracted.

"That's perfect! We can work with that!" Adamant agreed.

"I don't understand. Why is that perfect?" Thorin was at a loss.

"Because the oak tree is the symbol of the Baggins family!" Adamant gushed. "And Bilbo's personal emblem is an acorn! We've finally found something you two have in common! The oak tree is significant to both of you! Surely we can create a design around an oaken motif!"

"That is . . . convenient." Thorin shot a studying glance at his intended, but if Bilbo thought anything of it, he wasn't showing it. "It's a start, but merely added an oak tree isn't going to scream dwarf culture."

"No, but we can integrate some of your geometric patterns--give the tree a slightly angular design--and make the border a mix of angles and vines," Bilbo suggested.

"Yes! That could work! We just need someone to draw it." Adamanta clapped excitedly.

"Have Otho do it when he gets back." Bilbo pushed his largely untouched plate away. "He has some artistic talent." 

"Really?!" Lobelia laughed. "I never thought I'd hear you compliment him."

"It wasn't a compliment. Just an observation. I've thrown away too many pages that he's doodled on," Bilbo huffed in annoyance. "He's not a traditional artist by any means, but that might prove useful in this case."

"Sounds like a plan!" Adamant collected her own empty dishes. "Well, if we can get the invitations and wedding suits designed today, we can consider the day a success! That will be two big projects out of the way."

Sighing, Bilbo pressed his handkerchief over his nose and closed his eyes, propping his head on his hand. 

"Perhaps you should rest, darling." His grandmother patted the hand he had laying on the table.

"I don't have time."

"I'm sure you can afford an hour or two." Jerking slightly, Bilbo startled awake, and his grandmother tutted. "You're exhausted. Go rest."

He shook his head tiredly. "I don't--" 

Just then the front door opened, and any hope of Bilbo taking some time to rest disappeared. Straightening up, he put his handkerchief away and shook himself awake. "Guess it's time to get back to work."

"Aw! Lunch too!" Otho wilted with disappointment.

Rolling his eyes, Bilbo stood and tugged his vest smooth. "You'll survive a few missed meals."

"Yes, sir." Otho dipped his head submissively. "I brought her. This is Daisy May Brown from Bywater."

"Daisy!" Lobelia rushed over to peck her friend on the cheek. "Bilbo has the perfect opportunity for you! This could be just what you need to get your own business started!"

"Is-is that what this is about?" The young hobbitess wrung her hands anxiously. When Mister Baggins showed up ad our smial and said I'd been summoned by Master Baggins, I didn't know what to think. He just said it was urgent, and I had to come right away."

"Otho?! Why didn't you tell her she was needed for her tailoring skills?" Lobelia propped her hands on her hips.

"I, uh, forgot?" He shrugged, sweating under the combined scrutiny in the room.

"Incompetent," Bilbo muttered. "Come. We have work to do. Lobelia, serve Otho some lunch. I won't have his stomach rumbling while I'm trying to concentrate."

"Thank you, Master Bilbo!" 

Bilbo ignored his cousin's gratitude, and Lobelia giggled before heading back into the kitchen. Leading the way back to his study, Bilbo was accompanied by Adamanta, Thorin, Mrs. Grub and Miss Brown.

"So, what exactly is this big opportunity for my tailoring business?" Miss Brown asked as they filed into the office, Bilbo taking a seat behind his desk once again. He waved to his grandmother to provide the details.

"We are preparing for a very large and very important wedding. Quite possible the most important marriage of the century, at least. And we have less than three weeks to finish preparations."

"That seems a bit ambitious." Miss Brown glanced to the other individuals present. "But why am I here? I'm a nobody in fashion or tailoring."

"Because you are familiar with dwarf style clothing." Bilbo took over. "The marriage is between myself and Master Thorin here." He gestured to the dwarf. "It's essential that the wedding reflects a union and blending of dwarf and hobbit elements. As far as I know, you are the only hobbit in the Shire who can imitate dwarven fashion. I require excellent quality in service and product. Are you confident in your skills?" He pinned her with his gaze.

Miss Brown's eyes widened. "I, uh . . . "

"I am." Lobelia vouched for her friends as she joined them. "I've seen her work. I wouldn't recommend her if I didn't think she could live up to your expectations. You hate failure."

"You're right," Bilbo agreed. "Very well. We're on a tight schedule. We need two wedding suit designs finished by the end of the day. My suit needs to be predominately hobbit style with dwarven elements incorporated into it. Thorin's suit needs to be as dwarven as possible, while also possessing some obvious hobbit influences. You won't be working alone. Mrs. Grub here is also a seamstress. Work together to designed and make the suits, and I will pay you each full price for two suits. I'll also cover any extra or unforeseen expenses to ensure that the suits are top quality."

"That's very generous!" Mrs. Grub gasped. The tailors exchanged surprised looks.

"I don't mind paying for quality products. The only catch of course being that they must be top quality and completed on time. Fail, and I pay you nothing."

"We can do it!" Miss Brown quickly asserted. "If we can't, we don't deserve our own tailoring businesses!" She shared a confident smile with Mrs. Grub.

"Good. Measurements have already be taken. Work together on the designs. Thorin and I are available if you need further references or have any questions." Bilbo waved dismissively. 

Lobelia fished out some more paper and pencils and guided the hobbitesses to the small table. "I know you can do it." She ensured they had everything they needed. 

"I suppose we're only waiting on Otho, now." Adamanta took a seat in one of the arm chairs.

Sighing, Bilbo reached back and tugged one of the strings hung against the wall behind him. After giving it a few hard yanks he turned back to his desk.

"I'm right here, Bilbo." Lobelia gave him a quizzical look.

"I'm not summoning you."

A few moments later, Otho burst into the room, nearly trampling the lass. Lobelia yelped, and he grabbed her to avoid knocking her to the floor.

"Otho!" The room instantly charged when Bilbo shot to his feet. "Get your hands off her!"

Thorin's own spirit rose defensively, while the other hobbits in the room cowered.

"I am so sorry! I'm so sorry! Lobelia, I didn't mean to!" Otho gushed in a panic, as if sensing his impending doom. "I'm so sorry! It was an accident!" 

"It's all right. I'm fine!" Lobelia brushed the wrinkles from her dress. "I'm fine, Bilbo. Stop groveling, Otho. You know he hates that," she whispered at the contrite hobbit.

Bilbo didn't seem pacified in the least. "Are you a faunt? Watch where you're going!" 

"I'm so sorry!'

"Shut up! Make yourself useful instead of trampling my housekeeper!"

"Bilbo, I'm fine." Lobelia approached the angry master, placing a hand on his arm. "I'm fine." She sidled between him and his desk, cutting off his view of his cousin. 

"Are you sure?" Bilbo finally turned to her.

"Yes. You should sit." She plucked the handkerchief from his vest pocket and offered it.

Taking it, he pressed it over his nose. She stepped away, and he sat, sending a final dark glare at his cousin.

"Otho. Bilbo would like you to lend your artistic abilities to Ada and Master Thorin. They're trying to design wedding invitations. They have an idea, but they need someone to put it on paper," Lobelia directed as Bilbo was indisposed.

"M-Me?"

"Yes, he says you have some talent. Perhaps you can provide the hand they need." 

"H-He does?" Otho seemed cautiously flattered.

"Yes, silly. Now get over there and see what you can do." Lobelia shooed him over to Thorin and Adamanta.

"Y-Yes, ma'am."

Thorin studied his future husband as Adamanta ushered Otho to the table and began describing what they wanted. The atmosphere in the room cleared, and Bilbo was slumped over his desk, barely propped up, with his handkerchief firmly planted over his nose. He didn't look well, but no one else seemed to be taking any notice. No one but Lobelia, who Thorin caught sending several discrete glances to her lover. 

Caught awkwardly between concern and anger, Thorin didn't know if he should check on his intended or merely focus his glares on the lass. Though technically it was Bilbo that had made a scene of defending his mistress, the master looked so weak at the moment, Thorin couldn't bring himself to direct too much hostility in his direction. Unable to act on his frustration and jealousy, he shot Lobelia a half-hearted glare and tried to focus on his currently assigned task. 

The two groups worked on their respective jobs, conferencing quietly. Lobelia drifted about, making sure no one needed anything, before leaving to attend to her other duties. Bilbo finally recovered after the housekeeper delivered him some tea, cold water, and some scones to boost his energy. He ate sparingly, but it seemed to be enough to revive him for his work.

Everyone worked studiously until four o'clock, when Lobelia wheeled in a well stocked service cart with tea and other refreshments. Everyone set their work aside for the break. Everyone but Bilbo. 

"Darling, you need a break. At least come look at the progress we've made so far." His grandmother rubbed at his shoulder.

Sighing, he rubbed at his eyes under his spectacles. "Fine." He stood and Adamanta hooker her arm in his to guide him over.

Lobelia took the opportunity and slipped a cup of tea into his hands, receiving only a mild glare of rebuke. She retaliated with a sweet smile, and he huffed.

"We're making great progress." Adamanta pulled him to the table, laying their most complete design before him. 

Studying it, he took a sip of his tea and hummed. "It's not bad. The tree and border look good. The angular design in the bark is a nice touch."

"Really?" Otho came to peer over his cousin's shoulder.

"It's a bit bland though. Just a tree."

"What do you think we should add?" Adamanta wondered, and Thorin wandered closer to watch when Bilbo set down his cup and grabbed a pen. 

"Something to represent each of us would give it more meaning. Perhaps an oaken shield hanging from one bough and an acorn from another." Bilbo sketched an angular looking shield lightly in the branches before adding an acorn on the opposite side with smooth curves. "Add a raven and a pigeon at its crown and it would be even better." He set down the utensil.

"Oh, that would be perfect! Otho, can you do it?" Adamanta tugged on the young assistant.

"Y-Yeah. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Why a pigeon?" Thorin wondered at the comparison.

"Why? Because Bilbo orchestrated the carrier pigeon routes that fly all throughout the shire!" Adamanta answered proudly. "There's a pigeon post in every region of the Shire, and even several in other key locations outside of it. How do you think he contacted the Dunedain so quickly? Thanks to Bilbo, important information can be passed between regions within minutes, rather than hours or days!" 

Thorin raised an impressed brow at his intended. 

Bilbo shrugged. "Improved information relay is the natural first step for increasing security. The sooner a threat is made known, the faster we can respond to it." 

"You're right," Thorin nodded. "It was a good move."

"And the reason some hobbits refer to Bilbo as the pigeon master," Lobelia added. 

"I'm sure that's not meant to be a compliment." Bilbo was unimpressed.

"Well, it's a poor insult to be known for an accomplishment." She pecked him on the cheek. He grumbled but didn't argue.

"Would you like to see our designs, Master Baggins?" Miss Brown offered since everyone was crowded around the table anyway.

"Might as well," he sighed, and she spread out several different templates they had made. "You've made several."

"Well, there are many different design elements. What matters is the ones you want, really."

"It's a lot to take in. Keep doing what your doing for now. Thorin and I will go over your designs tonight and pick out the elements we like best, and tomorrow you'll have the final designs. So we don't lose any time, the two of you can begin scouting fabrics this evening. By tomorrow evening, we should have two working suit designs and the fabrics picked out for you to work with."

"Sounds like a plan." Mrs. Grub seemed please to get a more positive response.

"Now, break time's over. Get back to work." Bilbo handed his half-empty tea cup back to Lobelia, and the others grumbled quietly at tea time being cut short. It didn't stop them from enjoying their tea and refreshments as they continued to work, though. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Thorin and Bilbo have an almost pleasant talk . . . until it's not. Bilbo falls asleep at his desk and earns the (helpful?) wrath of his housekeeper.


	13. The Suit Designs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!😁

Thorin worked quietly at Otho's desk. The assistant had left for the day, his final assignment to escort Lobelia home, so Thorin had taken up temporary residence there to continue on the lists he was putting together for his betrothed. The smial seemed unnaturally quiet after the busy day.

A bell behind him rang suddenly and made him jump. Turning, he found the little bell hanging near the ceiling on the wall behind the assistant's desk. A summoning bell? Raising a brow, he got up and walked to the door dividing Otho's study from Bilbo's. He almost expected the door to be locked, but it opened easily. Stepping in cautiously, he spotted his future husband standing over his desk. Bilbo didn't seem to take notice of him as he ventured further in.

"You've already dismissed Otho for the day." 

Startling, Bilbo gave him a glare. "I know. I wasn't summoning him."

"I'm not your servant." Thorin crossed his arms.

"Yet, you're here." Bilbo waved a small stack of papers. "We have designs to go over." 

"You couldn't have walked into the next room?"

"Why should I? That's what the bells are for." Bilbo gestured for the dwarf to join him by the hearth. Dropping the papers on a small table between the chairs, he tossed a log on the small fire.

"Why's it so cold in here?" Thorin wondered as he sat in the opposite chair.

"I had the windows open."

"This late?" Thorin sniffed, a whiff of something offending his nose. It smelled faintly like smoke. Lobelia had mentioned the master taking a smoke break, but it didn't smell like any kind of pipeweed he'd ever had. If it tasted how it smelled, it couldn't be very good. He thought a wealthy gentlehobbit would have better taste. "Are you going to smoke?" He asked when Bilbo began prepping his pipe.

"Does that bother you? As a smith I'd think you'd be used to a little smoke."

"It doesn't." Thorin just wasn't sure he wanted to be in a cloud of that cheap smelling weed. 

Lighting his pipe, Bilbo took a long draw and held it before slowing blowing it out in a fluffy puff of smoke. His tension seemed to leave him with the cloud. Thorin braced for the foul scent but was surprised when an almost sweet smell wafted over him. "That smells good." 

"Old Toby. I don't suppose you have a pipe. There's a spare on the mantle you can use if you swear not to tell Lobelia we were smoking." 

Raising a brow, Thorin grabbed the spare pipe out of its case on the fireplace mantle. "Why? I thought she was okay with you smoking?"

"It's complicated." Bilbo offered his weed pouch. "Just don't tell her."

"All right." Thorin packed his pipe and was shortly enjoying an almost congenial smoke with his future husband. 

Slipping on his spectacles, Bilbo grabbed the first page of the stack of papers and studied the design.

Thorin grabbed the next page. "Are we judging each other's suit or our own?"

"Both. We should both approve of both suits, but first start with your own. We'll both construct a suit to our respective liking, and then we can exchange designs to assess. You can recommend which dwarven elements would work best, and I'll do the same for the hobbitish ones." Bilbo grabbed another sheet. 

"They outdid themselves. There's a lot of designs here." Thorin grabbed a second as well.

"Find the designs you like best and make adjustments."

They worked in comfortable silence as they went through the many designs, picking a starting template before adjusting what details they didn't like. After about an hour, they had each designed themselves a suit.

"Well, let's see what you came up with." Bilbo offered his own design, expecting Thorin's in return. As soon as he had the dwarf's paper in hand he tutted. "Absolutely not." He scratched at the paper with his charcoal stick. 

"What's wrong with it?" Thorin failed at suppressing his defensive tone.

"I hate that cuff style. You're not wearing it."

"O-kay?"

"Or that collar. Is that a dwarf thing? It looks horrid."

"I thought it was a hobbit style."

"Well, it's a terrible one. You're not wearing that either. I think we'll stick with a more dwarfish collar."

"Fur?"

"That's acceptable."

Thorin huffed in amusement. "You sound picky. I'm not really sure what I dare change on yours."

"Not the cuffs or the collar."

"Duly noted."

Thorin studied the quickly sketched details. "Are buttons important?"

"They can be. My smith is in Bree though, so, if you want custom made, I'll have to put the order in as soon as possible. What did you have in mind?"

"I can make them myself."

"Not without my approval." Bilbo shook his head. "I don't need any surprises."

"Fine. If we agree on a design, I can make them."

"My usual are acorns. You don't like them?"

"I didn't say that. I just thought we could modify them to reflect us both, like an acorn embossed oak shield. The shield could be more angular with the acorn design being more of hobbit style."

Bilbo considered the idea, and Thorin supposed he should count it a win that it wasn't immediately trashed. "That would be acceptable," he finally answered. "Providing they aren't too large. I know it's considered fashionable by dwarrow to be weighed down by large gems and hefty metals, but I prefer to weigh more than my clothing."

"That must be difficult for you, considering I doubt you could hold up against a strong wind."

"I hear enough from Mam! I don't need it from you!" Bilbo snapped irritably. 

"It was a joke--"

"Well, it wasn't funny!"

"I didn't mean--"

"Can we just get done? I have other work to get to!"

"All right," Thorin sighed, disappointed that he had ruined their almost pleasant evening.

They finished up quickly after that and Bilbo set their final suit designs aside for the hobbitesses the next day. Returning to his desk, he was once again ignoring the dwarf in the room. Sighing, Thorin shook his head and retreated to the assistant's study.

~~~~~

"Good morning, Thorin," Adamanata greeted him the next morning when he ambled into the kitchen. "You didn't happen to see Bilbo on your way here, did you?" 

"No." Honestly, it wasn't like the master wandered the house often.

"I figured as much. He's probably still shut up in his study. Doubt he even left last night," she tutted. "Be a dear and take him some breakfast. We have a busy day today. He may want to freshen up before the guests start arriving. I don't suppose he ate any dinner?"

"Lobelia and Otho left before dinner." Thorin shook his head. 

"And no one bothered to make anything in my absence," she concluded. Thorin just shrugged helplessly. He was still adjusting to so many meals. Missing one was more of a relief than a concern. "All right. Just take him some breakfast." She shooed him away.

Taking the opportunity to escape before she offered him any food, he collected the prepared tray and shuffled down the hall. Upon reaching the master study, Thorin knocked softly. Unlike before, there was no answer. He tried the door and found it locked. Huffing, he considered his options. He could return with the tray . . . and face Adamanta's wrath. Or he could force his way in . . . and face his intended's wrath. Neither option sounded very appealing. 

Before giving up and choosing one or the other, he recalled there was one more option. Slipping into Otho's side-study, he tried the inner door that lead to Bilbo's study. It was open, so he crept in, awaiting a rebuke. But there was none. Bilbo was slumped over his desk with his head resting on his arms. Adamanta was right. Bilbo hadn't left his study last night. 

Staring down at his slumbering intended, Thorin failed to resist the petty impulse and dropped the tray noisily onto the table. Bilbo jolted awake violently with a string of hobbitish on his tongue. After a moment of reorienting, he shot Thorin a glare and slumped back over his desk with a groan, holding his head. Thorin almost felt bad for the prank.

"Why didn't you go to bed last night?"

"What do you care?" Bilbo snapped irritably. "I slept. What difference does it make where it happened?" He rubbed at his temples.

"You're going to mess up your neck sleeping like that."

"As if you care." Bilbo rubbed at the back of his neck and flexed his shoulders.

"I care enough to bring you breakfast."

"No, you fear Mam enough to bring me breakfast." Sitting up, Bilbo popped his back with a wince.

"Fair enough. I did bring you breakfast though. Adamanta says it'll be a busy day."

"Every day's a busy day," Bilbo grumbled as he grabbed his tea cup. 

Thorin took a seat in front of the desk, while Bilbo begrudgingly ate the biscuits his grandmother had prepared.

"Why are you still here?" Bilbo raised an annoyed brow.

"If I go back to the kitchen . . . she'll make me eat," Thorin muttered.

Bilbo stared a moment before releasing a short, scoffing laugh. "Are you afraid of a little breakfast?" 

Despite the words, the question didn't sound as condescending as it should have. "I'm not used to eating so much, or so often." Thorin studied his betrothed for further insight into the strange mood.

"I'll keep your lack-luster eating habits to myself, if you don't harass me about mine."

"You're a hobbit. Yours are clearly unhealthy."

Shrugging, Bilbo rose a 'so what' sort of brow. "I guess you won't mind if I tell Mam that you're looking kind of thin then."

Thorin narrowed his eyes. "Are you blackmailing me? With food?"

Chuckling darkly, Bilbo smirked just barely. "I'm merely trying to find a point of mutual agreement." 

"Really? Because it sounded more like a threat."

Without warning, Otho suddenly charged into the room, dispelling the tension. "I'm here on time, Master Bilbo!" He doubled over panting.

"Miracles do happen," Bilbo muttered as he took a sip from his tea. "Well, get to work then. I need you to prep the south conference room."

"Yes, sir!" Otho ran back out to do as he was told.

"Conference room?" Thorin asked once the assistant had gone.

"With the invitations already designed and written, there's no more reason for me to oversee it. Mam will be in charge of organizing the transcribers. I don't need them getting in my way."

Thorin nodded. "And what will we be doing?"

Bilbo scoffed. " _I_ have a mountain of work to do. Even if I didn't, we still have to discuss flowers, party favors, gifts, decorations, and food." He listed off, looking more stressed as he went. "I still have harvest predictions to go over and the harvest festival to prepare for." He rubbed at his temples. "And I still have to make arrangements for your dwarrow."

"Let's just focus on one thing at a time." Even Thorin felt overwhelmed when Bilbo got like this. "What do we need to do today?" 

Sighing, Bilbo flipped open his little note pad. "Do you want to know everything or just what's relevant to you?"

"Uh . . ."

"Mrs. Grub and Miss Brown will be here this afternoon to pick fabrics for our suits. Later this morning, Mam will be directing the transcribers. At some point we need to begin talking flowers, though it may be difficult to acquire so many this time of year. We'll have to order from all around the Shire as early as possible to ensure we have enough. Which means we need to get it done today."

"All right." Thorin nodded slowly. "So what's first?"

"I need to wash up and change." Bilbo pushed away from his desk and gathered his dishes. "Lobelia will be here soon to prepare second breakfast. I suppose you can wonder around aimlessly as you do or actually work on those lists I'm waiting for." He shot the dwarf a scolding look.

"I've been working on them, but you're asking for a lot of information."

"If you want my help, I need a lot of information. Find me for second breakfast." Bilbo threw over his shoulder as he walked out of the study leaving Thorin on his own. 

Rolling his eyes, Thorin stood and wandered back to the kitchen to make sure Adamanta didn't need help with anything.

"Morning Ada." Lobelia sang as she arrived about the same time as Thorin. "How's Bilbo this morning? Did he get any sleep?"

"I haven't been to check on him. Thorin was just there, though." Both hobbitesses turned to him.

"He slept at his desk."

"Not again," Lobelia moaned and Adamanta tutted. "His neck is going to be a mess. Well, Let me get things started, and then I'll go check on him." The younger lass bustled about the the kitchen.

"I saw Otho come running in," Adamanta addressed the dwarf, "Where'd he get off to?"

"I believe he's preparing a conference room for you and your transcribers."

"Ah, yes. I didn't think of that. It's a good thing Bilbo's always on top of things."

"Is there anything you need me to do?" He asked as the lasses got to work.

"Yes. Get out," Lobelia ordered. "You're in the way." She waved him out.

Huffing, he did as commanded and walked back to the assistant's study. He hadn't even been seated ten minutes when Otho walked into the room. Seeing a dwarf behind his desk, he startled. "Uh . . . Did Bilbo tell you to use that desk?" he asked hesitantly. 

"No. But he didn't say I couldn't either. I didn't mean to take up your space. I was just using it because it was empty." Thorin collected his papers. He should probably let the hobbit have his desk, so the poor assistant wouldn't get in any more trouble with his boss.

Oh no! It's all right. You can use it!" Otho waved frantically to make him stop. "Uh, I'm not quite ready for it yet anyway. I'm waiting on the mail to be delivered, so I can get all the harvest projections together for Master Bilbo. We, uh, we should probably talk to him about getting you your own desk since you'll be, uh, you know, around . . . for a while." He fidgeted, discomforted by the clearly tense subject. 

"You're right. It would be best to have my own desk eventually. I'll talk to him about it."

"Uh, now's probably not the best time to bring it up though. Things are always really busy in harvest season and with the wedding, well . . . " The hobbit's ear twitched, and he turned it curiously toward the door to Bilbo's study, pausing to listen.

"What is it?"

"Uh, uh, nothing!" Otho insisted quietly.

Raising a suspicious brow, Thorin wasn't convinced, especially since the hobbit was still discretely trying to listen to what was going on in the other room.

"Is Bilbo in there? What's going on?"

"Uh, yes. It's, uh, it's probably nothing."

With narrowed eyes, Thorin stood and walked over to the door.

"Uh, uh, I don't think you should go in there right now!" Otho tried to get between the dwarf and the door but wasn't dedicated enough to actually do it. Thorin ignored him and continued. "No, really! Lobelia's in there. I don't think we should interrupt!" Otho continued with a lowered voice, though at this point he was more following than trying to stop the dwarf. 

All the more reason to bust in, as far as Thorin was concerned. Before Otho could say anything more, Thorin reached the door and flung it open to a cursing groan. 

"Ah!" Bilbo grunted something in hobbitish.

"That's what you get for sleeping over your desk like that! When are going to learn? You could have just shuffled over to your lounge chair," Lobelia tutted as she continued to dig her fingers into the tight muscles in his shoulders and the back of his neck.

Crossing his arms, Thorin glowered. Bilbo was barely dressed. Sure, he had pants on, but his loose fitting shirt wasn't even fully buttoned and the rest of his clothes lay over the arm of a chair nearby. His neck and shoulders were bare where Lobelia's hands pressed and massaged, drawing more curses than groans. 

The master must have said something amidst the unfamiliar sounds, since Lobelia replied, "If you didn't want my help, then you would make sure you slept in a decent location!" She jabbed her fingers deep into his shoulders. "It's not like you don't know what's coming when you do this. Obviously, you like the pain."

Bilbo ground something out in his own tongue, and she laughed. "Oh please! It's hardly going to kill you." She continued to ruthlessly force the tension out of his neck and shoulders. 

Otho's head popped out from behind Thorin curiously as the master was brutally massaged for his misdeed of sleeping at his desk. "She's amazing," he sighed so quietly that Thorin barely heard it. The other hobbits seemed to hear it just fine though. 

"Otho," Bilbo growled, peering up from where he was bent over under Lobelia's commanding hands.

With a squeak, the assistant hid behind the dwarf. Thorin was intrigued. It seemed Otho was in competition for the lass rather than the master. That was a refreshing thought, and Thorin felt he could encourage the poor, timid assistant whole-heartedly in his pursuit.

"There we go." Lobelia finally relented after a pop and groan from Bilbo. "Honestly, you'd think you'd learn." She shook her head when Bilbo leaned back into the chair with a moan. "Do you feel better at least?" 

"Ask me when it stops hurting."

She set her hands on her hips with a huff. "I have to get back to making _your_ breakfast. I assume you can at least dress yourself. Otho?"

"Yes!"

"Come with me. You can bring him the rice sack I have warming."

"Yes, ma'am!" The assistant eagerly chased after her as she left.

"Breakfast will be done soon!" She threw over her shoulder in the hall.

Stepping further into the room, Thorin stared over his crossed arms. "Are you all right?"

Bilbo's eye lids lifted sluggishly to stare back. "She's brutal."

"Then I can't imagine why you haven't learned your lesson by now like she said."

"I have more important things to worry about." Bilbo winced and rubbed at his neck again.

"I have your rice sack, Master Bilbo!" Otho ran back into the room, promptly delivering said sack.

"Thank you, Otho." Bilbo responded with a heavy dose of exasperation. Still, the assistant looked absolutely thrilled with the gratitude. Draping the long, warm sack over his shoulders, Bilbo pushed to his feet and sorted out his clothes. "Have you checked the mail yet?"

"It hadn't come yet last I checked. I'll go look again." Otho dashed back out of the room.

With a roll of his eyes, Bilbo slipped his suspenders over his arms.

Thorin spared a smirk at the assistants enthusiasm, while his intended continued to get dressed. He didn't bother to pretend not to watch as his future husband slipped on his vest and fixed his shirt, pulling the rice sack off to replace it with a cravat. Within moments he looked like a master again, and slipped his dress jacket on. 

"Shall we go get some breakfast?' Bilbo asked as he walked by on his way out.

"I'd be happy to join you," Thorin answered politely, catching up to match step with the hobbit. Bilbo scoffed, but didn't call him out. Lie or not, Thorin did find a subdued pleasure in walked through the hall at his intended's side, like equals. Casting a sideways glance at his hobbit, it almost felt strange to think of a hobbit as his equal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: It's off to the market! The crew go flower shopping for the wedding~


	14. The Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!🥰

Second breakfast was barely over before the first of many knocks sounded on the front door. Bilbo largely ignored the incoming stream of hobbits until Adamanta had them all collected into the conference room that Otho had prepared. Dragging Thorin along to share in his suffering, Bilbo joined them in the conference room, just long enough to announce their purpose in being there and the importance of the wedding invitations. After a quick explanation and introduction to Thorin, he promptly left without accepting questions. Thorin hurried out after him to avoid the many stares.

"I leave them in your hands, Mam. I have other things to take care of. Lobelia will help you keep the refreshments flowing." Bilbo passed by as he left. "I'll be in my office if you need me." 

"I've got things covered here, darling. All right, everyone! We have a lot of invitations to make!" She sang over the small group as Thorin closed the door behind him.

"What will you be doing next?" Thorin followed his intended to the master study.

"Work. Otho!"

"Right here, boss!" The younger hobbit popped out of his small office.

"Do we have all the harvest estimates yet?" Bilbo took a seat behind his desk.

"Uh, we have all but one." The assistant rushed to scoop up a pile of papers. "Farmer . . . Diggle still hasn't sent in his estimate."

"Diggle. Diggle is . . . " Bilbo searched through the papers on his desk.

"Uh, I think . . . he's a new farmer. Sowed his first crop this year." Otho fished out and handed the correct paper to his boss. 

"Ah, Diggle. He's sowing in one of my fields." Bilbo peered through his spectacles. 

"Yes, that's right. You financed his first crop to get him started. Shall I send him a fine for not responding by the due date?"

"No, it's his first year. Write him a reminder and hire a post boy to deliver it. We'll proceed with what we've got for now." Bilbo shuffled through the stack that Otho delivered. "Did you finish that list of rent dues?"

"Uh, yes! Let me just fetch it." The assistant sprinted into his study and returned with another document. "There are currently four outstanding rents still owed for this month." 

"Send each of the tenants a reminder." 

"Yes, sir. . . . The, uh, the Greenhand's are behind by three months, though. I don't think a reminder will cut it," Otho revealed apprehensively.

"What?! Why didn't you tell me about this?" Bilbo snatched away the paper.

"Well, I, uh, I did. They aren't behind by three _whole_ months. They've been paying something each month, but it's been under the official rent price." Otho wrung his hands anxiously, sending a timid look to Thorin as he awaited Bilbo's verdict. "Shall I send them an eviction notice?"

"What?" Bilbo's head popped up. "No." He handed the paper back and made a note in his notepad. "I'll speak with them personally. Take care of the others."

"Yes, sir." Otho lingered after the dismissal, looking hesitant. He sent the dwarf another look, and Thorin raised a brow.

"You're still here, Otho." Bilbo glared over his glasses. "What is it?"

"Uh, well . . . I, um, noticed Master Thorin's been using my desk lately--"

"Does that bother you?" Bilbo asked forcefully.

"No! No, it's just, you know, I mean--"

"Spit it out, Otho!"

"Since he's going to be here from now on, I thought it might be a good idea to get him his own . . . desk?" Otho blurted, but lost steam as he went.

His eyes widening, Bilbo stared from Otho to Thorin and back several times, tensing as if about to explode. They were not disappointed. "Damnit, Otho! You're here to help with the work load, not pile more on top!" He slammed his hands on the desk. "As if I don't have enough to keep track of right now! You want me to reorganize my entire smial and redecorate as well?"

"I-I could put in the order," Otho offered contritely. "I just thought--"

"I don't pay you to think! I pay you to do what you're told! Now get out of my sight!" Grabbing a wadded piece of paper, Bilbo chucked it at the retreating assistant.

"Yes-yes, sir. I'm sorry. I was just--"

"Get out!"

"Yes, sir!" Otho hurried back to his own space.

Huffing, Bilbo plopped into his seat. Thorin raised a brow at the seemingly unprovoked tantrum. Ignoring it, Bilbo jotted something down in his notepad. "I'll see about a desk, but don't expect it to happen with everything that's going on right now."

"That's fine. I suppose I'll just have to work in here with you when Otho's at his desk."

Bilbo grimaced. "Maybe I can make some . . . earlier arrangements." 

Snorting, Thorin got up to fetch his own papers. Everyone else was so busy at the moment, he might as well work on his own little tasks. Using a lapboard across the arms of his chair, he got to work. He was mostly done with several of the lists and just giving one of them a final review. 

Elevensies flew by and soon Lobelia was fetching them all for lunch. Otho however was not allowed to join until he had sent out the letters he was responsible for. Adamanta joined them, looking satisfied with her morning's work. 

"So, I've got all the invitation makers sorted. It took a few tries to get everyone on the same page, but each one of them were able to replicate a satisfactory invitation. I've split the total number between them, so each of them is responsible for a certain amount. I've given them no less then a week to finish, but promised to pay extra to anyone who could deliver sooner." 

"Will they be addressing them as well?" Bilbo asked as he picked at his food.

"Oh, yes. Complete with envelopes. Each invitation should be ready to seal and send upon return. That was actually what took us the longest. I had to get Otho to help me find your records of all the Shire families and then divide them up. I hope you don't mind, I let them borrow your books."

"I do mind very much." Bilbo's eye's widened, and he was visibly restraining his temper.

"Oh well, they'll be back soon enough."

"Mam, I don't have copies of those!" Bilbo groaned into his hands.

"Nothing will happen to them. I warned them the wrath of Master Baggins would fall on them if anything did."

He groaned again, muttering something in hobbitish.

"Oh, stop it. Everything will be fine. Hopefully, in a few days we'll be sealing and sending out the wedding invitations. Lobelia, dear, did you look into the flowers like I asked?"

"Yes, ma'am. It took some gossiping, but I know all the best stocked flower stands. Most flowers are still in circulation, so I don't see why we would have any shortage of flowers as long as we pick ones that are still available." 

"What are the flowers for?" Thorin wondered innocently and received several disbelieving stares. At least Bilbo didn't seem offended by the question and simply sighed.

"What for?!" Lobelia gaped.

"You can't have a wedding without flowers!" Adamanta added.

"I . . . didn't know that," Thorin offered cautiously. Otho was nearly ducking below the table, but Bilbo just shook his head.

" _Flowers_ are very important in hobbit culture," Adamanta began her lecture. "And not just because they're pretty and grow in gardens. Every flower means something. We have an entire language of flowers! You can say a lot with just a few well chosen blooms. Flowers are integral for a wedding because it tells the audience and families about the couple and their marriage. The guests will read the meaning and importance of this wedding through the flowers." 

"I see."

"Do dwarrow not hold any special meaning in specific items?" Bilbo wondered casually.

"We do, but not to the extent of forming an entire language around it."

"Like?" Bilbo gestured him to continue.

"Stones are probably the closest comparison. Different gemstones have different meanings. The stones we gift or wear have meanings."

"Oh! You'll have to tell us about them! Maybe we can sprinkle some gemstones into our decorations and bouquets, as well!" Adamant clapped. 

"Would that work?" Bilbo asked without looking at his dwarven intended. "Is that proper usage of the stones?"

"Yes, I think it would blend well with your flower usage." Thorin nodded once.

"Excellent! Oh! We'll have to find some gem merchants!" Adamanta gushed excitedly.

"I'll take care of that." Bilbo pushed away from the table. "Clean up and get ready to go. I believe the seamstresses will be coming for us after tea time, so we need to wrap up flower picking before then."

"Are we going out?" Lobelia seemed excited.

"We might as well go to the flowers. It'll be easier to pick the arrangements that way."

"Oh! We haven't been to the market in ages!" Lobelia hopped up and quickly began to clean the table.

"We went just a few weeks ago," Bilbo grumbled.

The lass scoffed. "It's been at least three weeks. Do you know how much things can change in three weeks? Whole fashions can begin and fizzle out in three weeks! What if I've missed them?"

"That would be a tragedy," the master mumbled as he retreated back to his study. Smirking, Thorin followed.

The lasses quickly cleaned up the table and kitchen and were soon arriving to collect the males. "Otho, grab my coin bag and the suit designs on my desk," Bilbo ordered in the midst of Lobelia and his grandmother's fussing. Thorin and Otho watched nearby as he endured their primping with many eyerolls. "Yes, yes. I'm fine. Thank you. Can we go now?" He finally fended them off.

"Just about. You're cravat is just a bit . . ." Adamanta ignored his protests.

"For the love of--"

"Hush! There. Now it's perfect." 

"You can't go out looking like you slept at your desk all night," Lobelia tutted, messing with his hair. "You have to look like the master you are."

"Overworked and underappreciated?" Bilbo huffed.

"No, silly! Master Baggins! Only the most renowned hobbit in the Shire!" She pecked him on the cheek.

Sighing, he straightened his jacket once more. "Can we just go now?"

"Yes, dear," Adamanta chuckled.

"Not quite. Give me a moment?" Lobelia glided out of the room.

"We'll meet you at the door, darling," Adamanta returned as the rest of them filed out of the study. She fluffed her own gray curls at the door while they waited for the younger lass. "Goodness! You clean up fast! Look at you!" She gushed when Lobelia returned.

Somehow, in the past few minutes, the lass had transformed from housekeeper to socialite. Her dress now sported brighter colors, and her hair was thrown up to spill pretty brown curls over her shoulder. "Oh, it's nothing. Just took the apron off and slipped in a hairclip."

"Well, I-I think--"

"You look beautiful. Are you ready?" Bilbo cut off his assistant, sending him a warning glare.

"Thank you." Lobelia grinned bashfully. "Yes, let's hit the market!" 

"Then lets go." Bilbo stepped out the door and lifted his arm. "Shall we?'

"We shall." Lobelia hooked her arm in his, and they walked down the front steps together. 

Thorin glared after the couple. The fact that they actually looked good together only added to his disgust. His scowls were disrupted by a tug on his sleeve.

"Lend an old lady your arm, would you?" Adamanta lifted her hand expectantly.

"Of course." Thorin offered his arm obediently. "Though I would think it would be your grandson's job." They walked down the stairs.

"Bilbo has responsibilities." She patted his arm. "Don't take it personally."

With Otho bringing up the rear, they walked to the market. They received many greetings as nearly every hobbit they passed stopped to acknowledge the master in their company. Bilbo would give a single nod in return, if he responded at all. Lobelia, on the other hand, greeted them all cordially, practically flaunting the master she walked with. Adamanta also received her share of greetings, though they seemed more personal.

Despite Bilbo's single-minded intent to shop for flowers that afternoon, the hobbittess on his arm kept dragging him to one shop or another. 

"Lobelia," Bilbo sighed quietly. "Flowers first, if you don't mind."

"Oh fine, but you owe me some proper shopping."

" _After_ flowers."

"Hmph. This way then." She finally kept to a specific direction. A couple minutes later, they walked into a yard filled with flowers. Pots and boxes sprouting bushels of blooms covered most of the space, leaving only enough room to walk about.

"Let's get shopping!" Adamanta sang and released her dwarf escort. She and Lobelia waded into the flowers chatting about which ones they should choose. 

Thorin and Otho, both settled on either side of Bilbo who sighed. "I hate shopping," he grumbled as they watched the ladies bustle around.

"Do we even need to be here? We could just let them pick the flowers," Otho suggested softly.

"Absolutely not. They'll pick the sappiest, most nauseating flowers available." 

"Isn't that normal for a wedding?"

"This is not a normal wedding! No! No reds! No roses!" Bilbo interrupted the ladies as they were browsing from a particularly bright section. "No bright colors!" Thorin and Otho exchanged a glance and slowly followed. 

"What do you mean 'no bright colors?" Adamant scoffed. "It's a wedding! Not a funeral. It has to be cheerful!"

"No. It needs to reflect the nature and purpose of the marriage. Happiness and love have no part in it." He dismissed the brightly colored blooms they stood over. "Besides, such bright cheerful colors is hardly appropriate for a dwarven marriage. They prefer darker, tones."

Thorin raised a curious brow. His intended was right, of course, but he didn't remember mentioning that.

"Then what are we supposed to use?" Lobelia huffed. "If it was a dwarven marriage, they wouldn't even have flowers, or a wedding!"

"That's why we're _blending_ ," Bilbo stressed, pulling out his handkerchief to hold over his nose. Glancing around, he marched over to a patch of bright blue flowers. "Use this as the base." He cupped one of the blooms in his hand. "We'll work with a blue toned palette."

"Oh, that could be nice," Adamanta hummed, considering the surrounding flowers.

"Still, it's a _wedding_." Lobelia wasn't convinced.

"The wedding reflects the marriage. And the marriage is about the contract. Not between Thorin and I, but between hobbits and dwarrow." Bilbo sighed, looking tired. "Passion and love aren't appropriate for such a young bond. It hasn't even sprouted yet. We need to encourage both peoples to foster the seed of union."

"So, blue cornflower for prosperity and friendship." Lobelia stroked one of the bright blue flowers. 

"It's a start." Bilbo folded his handkerchief and slipped it back into his pocket.

"Then perhaps . . . Dahlia?" Adamanta suggested.

"Make it blue."

"Oh, yes. there will be many changes, won't there."

"That's a lot of blue, though." Lobelia propped her chin in her hand. "We need some other colors to balance it."

"Well, if we're going with blue tones, perhaps something in purple or green?" Adamanta searched for the specified colors. "I think green would represent Bilbo a little better."

"But purple would work well, too. The dwarf being royalty and all, and Bilbo's pretty close."

"Oh, how about some purple iris?" Adamanta targeted a pot of said flowers.

"That's acceptable." Bilbo nodded.

"We still need something lighter to contrast the darker colors. It's too dark with just these three. 

"Pick something white. Lily will suffice." Bilbo gestured to a box of white blooms. He looked like he was just ready to be done.

"Hmm. If we pick a lighter shade of blue for the dahlias, I think it would work quite nice." Lobelia considered the appointed flowers.

"Is that it though?" Adamanta almost pouted.

"It's plenty. Talk to the shop keep and make arrangements. See if they want to collaborate with other flower stands or if we need to make separate orders." Bilbo wandered back to stand beside the other males.

Chatting together, the lasses ventured further in to find the shop owners. "Uh, M-Master Bilbo? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Stop stuttering, Otho. It's pathetic."

"Sorry sir." Otho leaned slightly, as if resisting some sort of pressure.

Studying them, Thorin noticed that Bilbo wasn't standing entirely straight himself. "So, do all flowers have meanings?" he asked casually.

"Yes."

"Meanings vary both by species and color, so even flowers of the same kind can mean different things if they're different colors," Otho added to the master's brief response.

"What do purple flowers mean?"

"Depends on the flower."

"What about the ones in Bilbo's study?" Thorin ignored the suspicious look from his intended.

"The hyacinths? Purple hyacinths are an apology flower. They express regret and a desire for forgiveness."

"A flower you would use with a lover?" Thorin returned his future husband's glare.

"Uh, yeah. Could be." Otho remained oblivious to the silent exchange.

"It's applicable to all kinds of relationships," Bilbo added.

"Uh, yep." Otho finally caught on to the tension and shifted anxiously. "That's true."

"Stop moving," Bilbo ordered quietly, also shifting slightly.

"Sorry."

The three of them lapsed into a tense silence until the lasses returned. "Well?" Bilbo prompted, standing straighter. 

"The shop keepers will reach out to flower shops throughout the Shire to collaborate in preparation of the wedding. I assured them all shops would be paid in full for their contribution, but they thought it would be easiest if they cooperated rather than competed. A good call, I must say," Adamanta answered.

"Good. Less work for me. Will they have enough flowers on time?" Bilbo fished out his little notebook and jotted something down. 

"It may require flowers from all throughout the Shire, but they seemed confident."

"Excellent. Then we can move on to our next target."

"What's that, dear?"

"Stones."

"Stones?" All four of them gave the master a curious look. "We hadn't talked about how to integrate them yet," Adamanta added.

"Flowers are hobbitish. Stones are dwarvish. Mixing them is the simplest way to merge our respective elements. The flowers will give a message to the hobbit audience, but our dwarven guests will see no such thing. Arranging the stones with the flowers will put the two messages side by side to compliment and inform both sides of our audience." 

"All right then! We better find some stones that go well with our flowers." 

"That should be no problem. Stones come in many colors, just like flowers," Thorin assured.

"Oh!" Lobelia bounced. "We're going to the exotics shop next!"

"Not yet. I have one last thing to do here." Bilbo entered the shop for one more purchase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: They go stone shopping and Thorin meets another one of the masters. It's tea time and they don't have time to go home for it, so it's off to the local favorite tea shop.


	15. The Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I realized I forgot to post the meanings for the flowers chosen for their wedding in the last chapter, so here they are. In case anyone was curious.😉
> 
> Blue Dahlia: fresh starts/significant changes  
> Blue Cornflower: prosperity/friendship  
> Purple Iris: royalty/wisdom/respect  
> White Lily: purity/commitment
> 
> (Further meanings for this chapter in the end notes.)
> 
> Enjoy!😁

Bilbo returned from the flower shop carrying two pairs of flowers, each twisted and together and wrapped in ribbon. "For you." He handed an orange and yellow combo to his grandmother.

"Oh! Thank you, darling! How sweet of you." Adamanta teared up slightly as she took it.

"You're welcome. And for you." He handed a white and pink pair of flowers to Lobelia.

"Aw! Thank you, love." The younger lass took them with a bashful smile and flutter of her eyes. 

The ladies helped each other tie the flowers into their hair, before converging on Bilbo to show their appreciation. He patiently endured while each one pecked one side of his face, but was quick to dismiss the lingering gratitude to move on to the next task.

"All right. Yes, you're welcome. Can we go now?"

"Darling, you're the one who bought the flowers." Adamanta fluffed her curls to better show off her adornments. "It's good to know my sweet little Bilbo is still in there." She latched on to one of his arms.

"That's right." Lobelia grabbed his other. "If you didn't want us to be grateful, you shouldn't do nice things for us."

"Maybe you just overreact. You act like I never do anything nice for you," he grumbled.

"Oh poppycock!" His grandmother swatted him lightly.

"You're no good at flattery, love. If you give a gift, we can be sure it's heartfelt." Lobelia grinned sweetly. 

"Whatever," Bilbo sighed and guided the ladies on his arms out of the flower filled plot and out into the market. Quite a crowd had seemed to congregate around the flower shop, and they had to wade their way through.

Thorin fell back to walk with Otho once they cleared the crowd. "What do Lobelia's flowers mean?" he asked quietly when they were surrounded by the regular market chatter.

"Lobelia's?" Otho glanced to the dwarf and back to personal crush. "Lots of things, I guess."

"Like?"

"Well, like love, beauty, admiration."

Scowling, Thorin should have known, but no one seemed to find anything wrong with it. Was Bilbo's affair with the lass considered socially acceptable? His own grandmother certainly didn't seem to have a problem with it.

It wasn't long before they approached another shop. This one had large windows set in the front of the hill with many shiny and metallic baubles and accessories sitting in view. On a wooden post by the door hung the name "Goldworthy's Imports." Opening the door, Bilbo ushered the hobbitesses in.

Once inside, Thorin scanned the shop. It was full of jewelry and specialty crafted items, including a wide variety of gemstones set in numerous accessories. Lobelia and Adamanta quickly abandoned the master to begin browsing, chattering with appreciation at all the 'pretty rocks.'

Thorin came to a stop near his future husband who was casually examining the shop, though he seemed more interested with the set up than the products. "Will this place really have enough stones for a large scale wedding?"

"No," Bilbo returned succinctly. 

"Then why are we here?"

"Visuals."

"I don't--"

"We don't know stones like you do--by sight or by name. Just like you don't know flowers. It will be easier to discuss them if we can see what we're talking about." 

"So, we aren't actually going to buy anything?"

"You aren't," Bilbo mumbled, glancing to where the ladies were eying the gems with desire.

Thorin huffed. "Then where are we going to get them? I imagine large quantities of flowers are both easier and less expensive to acquire." 

"Price isn't an issue, and I have several contacts that I can reach out to as long as I know what I'm buying." 

"Master Baggins!" A new voice filled the shop as an older hobbit approached them. He was clearly wealthy, and, upon a second glance, Thorin realized he was one of the masters that had attending the meeting with the Thain. "What brings you to my humble shop? In need of something exotic, I hope," the hobbit greeted cordially.

"Master Goldworthy," Bilbo returned. "You remember Thorin, I'm sure."

"Of course. Master Thorin." Master Goldworthy extended his hand. "Not likely to forget you any time soon."

Thorin shook the offered hand. "Master Goldworthy. I'm afraid I didn't have a name to put to your face before now, but it is a pleasure to see you under more . . . agreeable circumstances."

Master Goldworthy chuckled. "Oh, it's not a problem. The meeting was . . . certainly something, wasn't it?" He cast a quick glance to Bilbo.

"Master Goldworthy is actually a recent addition to the master council. His family has only achieve significant influence in recent years by providing luxury items from outside the Shire," Bilbo explained.

"It's only thanks to you, Master Baggins." Goldworthy nodded at the smaller master. "If it weren't for your connections outside the Shire, I wouldn't have known where to start!"

"I merely put you in touch with the right people. You built your own business from there." Bilbo brushed off the gratitude. "We're here to look at your stone collection. We've decided to incorporate some dwarven elements into the wedding, and we need to pick some gemstones appropriate for the occasion." 

"Ah, I've heard rumors of this wedding. It's going to be quite the grand affair, I understand."

"Unfortunately."

Master Goldworthy chuckled. "Well, browse as much as you like. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

"Thank you, Master Goldworthy. I believe we're just looking at the moment, but I'll let you know if I need anything."

"Oh, you're very welcome. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even have this booming business! I see you brought you're pretty lass with you. And of course, Mistress Adamanta. Perhaps I should go see if they need any help picking something out." Master Goldworthy waggled his brows and left to join the hobbitesses.

Shaking his head, Bilbo waved Thorin on. "Well, you're the stone expert. What do you think would go best with our flower choices?"

"I don't really know what your flower choices meant."

"The major themes were respect, commitment, prosperity and friendship. Go for meanings that would best encourage a positive response, not for our marriage, but for the union of dwarrow and hobbits as a whole. Our marriage is nothing more than a smaller scale example of a very large arrangement. Plus you need to consider our color theme."

"So, blue tones?" Thorin hummed.

"Preferably. Too many colors might get confusing."

"How do you plan to present them?"

"They need to be worked into the bouquets somehow. Maybe amidst the flowers." Bilbo shrugged. "I haven't decided what would work best yet, but they need to be noticeable, at least to dwarrow." 

"If they're visible, they will be noticed. Dwarrow are drawn to stones just like hobbits are drawn to flowers it seems."

"Then perhaps we can mount them on a stem-like setting and stick them in among the flowers. Assuming you can find some stones that will fit our color theme."

"I think I know just the stones, actually." Thorin wandered further into the shop, looking for the gems he had in mind. He searched for a couple minutes before turning suddenly and nearly knocking into his betrothed. He hadn't heard the hobbit follow and didn't realize he was so close. "Sorry," he offered but Bilbo merely huffed and straightened his jacket. "I think this one would work well." Thorin pointed into a glass case.

"What is it?" Bilbo produced a pair of spectacles from somewhere inside his coat and slipped them on to peer down at the deep blue stone.

"Sapphire. This one is a royal blue which might be the most appropriate. Sapphire represents honesty and trust. Both things we hope to foster between our peoples."

"That's acceptable. Sapphire shouldn't be too hard to acquire." Bilbo nodded and slipped his spectacles back into his pocket. "Anything else?" he jotted something down in his notepad.

"There's a few more I need to find." Thorin continued to search the shop. It didn't take him long to find another of his targets. "How about this one? It's called citrine and represents prosperity and success." 

"It's yellow." Bilbo peered through his spectacles. 

"Well, the appropriate color for this meaning would actually be a darker brownish orange, but yes, it doesn't really fit the blue palette."

"No, but it might work on the flower wrappings. Or perhaps a ribbon wrapped around the stems. I'll keep it in mind." Bilbo scratched at his notepad.

"There are two more I'm looking for. Zircon comes in a light blue and means honor and prosperity. Purple spinal represents protections and reconciliation. I think they'll match the flowers you chose well."

"They sound promising. Find me some samples."

"I'll try."

They wandered around the store together for a few more minutes before Lobelia hurried over to steal away her lover. With only a mild glare, Thorin continued his search alone. After he had finally found a specimens of each of the two remaining stones, he sought out his intended.

"Absolutely not. I'm not buying you that."

"Aww!" Lobelia whined. "Why not? It's so pretty and shiny!"

"It's gaudy," Bilbo responded flatly. "Those stones are as big as your eyes. You've nothing to prove to need _that_. I'm not buying it."

Master Goldworthy laughed. "I'm afraid he's right on this one, Miss Bracegirdle. Something finer and more elegant would suit you better, I think." He rubbed his hairless chin.

"Like what?" Lobelia scoffed, latching on to Bilbo's arm. 

"Something that's not that," Bilbo returned.

"Fine. I'll keep looking." She released him and sashayed away.

Master Goldworthy chuckled. "She's a feisty one."

"She has questionable taste. Did you find what you were looking for?" Bilbo turned to Thorin.

"I did."

"Let me see." Bilbo waved him ahead and slipped on his spectacles. Thorin showed him each of the stones he'd chosen. "I think they'll work well. It'll be difficult to attain too many in the short time we have, so I'll aim for one of each stone per bouquet."

"That should be plenty."

"I'll get in touch with my contacts. Otho, no touching!" The assistant smiled sheepishly and set a glass ornament back on its stand. "Let the others know we're done and wait for me outside. I need to talk with Goldworthy for a moment."

Nodding, Thorin collected everyone, and they slipped outside to wait.

"I can't believe that I didn't find a single thing." Lobelias stood with her arms crossed. 

"But you liked so many," Admanta sympathized.

"But Bilbo wouldn't buy any of them for me." Lobelia slipped some whine into her voice.

"I thought they were nice." Otho tried to relate.

"That's because you have terrible taste." Bilbo emerged from the shop behind them.

"I can't believe you didn't buy me anything," Lobelia pouted.

"You're right. I'm terrible. I shouldn't even be a master." He handed over something wrapped in brown paper.

She gasped. "You did buy me something!"

"Since when do I not? This one is for you, Mam." Bilbo handed his grandmother another wrapped item. "You didn't ask for anything."

"Oh, I didn't want to bother you." Adamanta took the gift and unwrapped it. It was a small, sunflower shaped brooch, made with little yellow and brown stones. "How did you know?"

"You were staring at it for a good fifteen minutes." Bilbo wrapped an arm around her and pecked her cheek. "You should know you can ask me for anything."

"Thank you, darling." She hugged him back, admiring her new brooch. 

Lobelia squealed suddenly. "Where did you find this?! I didn't see it!" She held up the elaborate hair pin.

"You were looking in all the wrong places," Bilbo huffed.

"Ada! Ada! Help me put it in!" she gushed at the older hobbitess.

"It's called 'sun drops,'" Bilbo informed, plucking it from her hands and deftly slipping it into her hair. Droplets of orange and yellow stones spilled over her dark brown curls. "It suits you."

"Oh!" Lobelia tackled him and the master let out an _oof_. "You're so good to me!" She planted a big kiss on his cheek. Thorin glowered at the exchange, while Adamanta just giggled. Otho looked like he was wishing it was he in her arms.

"Yes, yes." Bilbo finally pried her off and straightened his jacket. "It seems we're almost late for tea. No point going home for it."

"Good! We can go to the tea shop, and I can show off my new hairpin." Lobelia preened, not the least bit put out.

"We're short on time, so we might as well." Bilbo held up both elbows and the lasses each latched an arm on his. "Shall we go get some tea?" 

"Yes! We just _have_ to go to the Goodbody Tea and Sweet Shop!" Lobelia insisted. 

"Oh, I hear their pastries are the envy of all Hobbiton!" Adamanta added.

"Yes, fine. They're decent I suppose." Bilbo didn't sound particularly excited, but led them forward regardless. 

Thorin and Otho followed. Both hobbitesses received many compliments on their new accessories as they walked through the marketplace on the arms of Master Baggins. By the time they reached the revered Goodbody sweet shop, there was quite a hum of murmurs surrounding them.

Picking a fancy table just outside the shop and under the brightly colored awning, Bilbo pulled a chair out for each of the ladies before taking one himself between them. If he was trying to ward of his dwarven future husband, he was doing a marvelous job of it. Thorin took a seat beside the older mistress, allowing Otho to cheerfully take the one beside Lobelia. He smirked wickedly when Bilbo looked none to pleased about the seating arrangement. 

A young lass quickly arrived to take their orders. Bilbo ordered the tea while each of the other hobbits ordered their preferred pastry treat to accompany it. Running back inside to deliver their orders, the lass returned shortly accompanied by an older hobbitess and a couple other young girls bearing their orders.

"Master Baggins!" The older hobbitess greeted as she set a round tray filled with a decorative tea set on the center of the table. "It's such an honor to see you at our humble shop! We don't see you out and about very much."

"I prefer not to be, Mrs. Goodbody," Bilbo returned with disinterest.

"Of course. All the more honor in serving you. Here are your pastries." Mrs. Goodbody filled their table with a variety of sweets. "I threw in a few extra. Can't have you leaving hungry. If you need _anything_ my oldest daughter will be nearby to serve you." She curtsied and hurried back inside.

Sighing, Bilbo sipped at his tea as the little shop was suddenly bustling with activity. 

Adamanta chuckled. "Just try to ignore them, darling. It's just the way of things."

"What is?" Thorin asked confused, though even he could tell his intended's patience was rapidly depleting.

"All this." Lobelia twirled her finger to emphasize the surrounding area. "Masters are highly regarded. Anywhere a master shops, instantly becomes a hot spot for business."

"Hobbits are always watching, Master Thorin. Anywhere that a master such as Bilbo would seek service must be a fine place indeed," Adamanta added. 

"This is why I hate coming out," Bilbo sighed again. Closing his eyes and holding his handkerchief over his nose, he leaned back into his chair.

"So, they're here because he's here." Thorin glanced around at the quickly filling tables.

"Yep." Lobelia daintily lifted her turnover to her mouth.

"Why hasn't this happened anywhere else we've been today?"

"It has. You just haven't been paying attention." Bilbo sipped at his tea as if trying to focus on anything but the growing crowds.

"Oh, I think I heard someone mention your hairpin," Adamant whispered over her grandson to Lobelia. "It's quite the envy."

"It should be." Lobelia fluffed her hair, making the gemstones shimmer in the sun. "Bilbo has exquisite taste."

The little group mostly ignored their growing audience, save for the hobbitesses whispering about the admiration their flowers and accessories were earning them, until they'd nearly emptied their tea pot. Thorin took advantage of the distractions to observe his intended. Bilbo sat relaxed in his chair with his eyes closed. Thorin almost thought he was asleep, until the shop owner's daughter walked over and placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder.

When Bilbo's eyes slowly opened, the cold, almost angry look in his eyes nearly gave Thorin the chills. Slowly turning to the hand on his shoulder, Bilbo then looked up at the lass to which it belonged.

Her smile faltered, but she didn't give up. "I noticed your tea was almost gone. Would you like me to fetch you another pot?" she asked sweetly.

"Holly, wasn't it?" Bilbo asked, and Thorin wondered if he was the only one who noticed the distinct tone of disgust in the master's voice.

"You remembered my name!" The lass grinned widely. Lobelia gaped in outrage at the girl's audacity.

"Yes, you may fetch us another pot. Also, send for your brother--the older one--if you don't mind." 

"Certainly _I_ can provide you with whatever you need. Why do you need him?" Holly's hand rubbed subtly at Bilbo's shoulder. Now Thorin and Lobelia were both glaring furiously.

Bilbo leaned slightly closer to her. "Because he's useful to me."

"But I can--"

"Send him," Bilbo cut her off, sufficiently dismissing her that time. Finally she removed her hand and hurried dejectedly into the shop.

"The audacity! Right next to Ada!" Lobelia blustered. "She has no shame!"

"She was just doing what her mother told her, I'm sure," Adamanta countered but didn't look pleased about it either.

"And what does that say about her?"

"I can't say I'm entirely surprised. You are the most eligible bachelor in the Shire. I just didn't realize there were such brave lasses around these parts," Adamanta hummed. 

"I'm not a money bag. I'd prefer it if they kept their grubby, gold-digging fingers off me." Bilbo brushed off the offended shoulder and straightened his jacket.

"Now, dear, that's not very nice." But it didn't sound like much of a rebuke.

Lobelia scoffed. "She should have known better. Did she really think she had a chance with me at your side?"

Rolling his eyes, Thorin figured he should count it a blessing that he only had a select few competitors to deal with. At least Bilbo wasn't out here wooing every lad and lass that crossed his path. Of course, that also meant Bilbo's ties with Lobelia would be considerably harder to cut. One battle at a time, he supposed.

"You called, Master Baggins?" A lad ran up to their table.

"Yes." Bilbo sat up with more energy. "I have a silver coin for you if you can run an errand for me."

"A silver coin?!"

"That's right. I just need you to deliver a message."

"I'd run across the Shire for a silver coin!"

"Well, you won't have to go quite that far. There's a couple of lasses that should be calling on Bag End soon. I need you to run over and let them know to meet us here in the market." 

"Sure thing, Master Baggins!"

"Good lad. Bring them back here, and the coin is yours." Without another word, the faunt ran off. "What? I don't feel like walking that far." Bilbo shrugged when he turned back to the fond gazes of the hobbitesses at his sides.

"You are a darling. Do you know that?" Adamanta smiled.

"You're entitled to your opinions, I suppose." Bilbo poured himself some more tea, and the hobbitesses delved into light chatter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Fabrics for the wedding suits are picked out. Thorin finally receives a missing puzzle piece about his intended's disagreeable temperament.
> 
> Adamanta's flowers and their meanings:  
> Orange Daylily -- motherhood/love/beauty/devotion  
> Yellow Jasmine -- Grace/elegance
> 
> Bilbo's expressing his devotion to and adoration of her as a mother figure.
> 
> Lobelia's flowers and their meanings:  
> White carnation -- innocence/pure love/good luck  
> Pink Calla lily -- beauty/Appreciation/Admiration
> 
> I'll let you speculate about this message. 😉

**Author's Note:**

> This work is updated monthly. Check out my [tumblr](https://domesticgoddesswriter.tumblr.com) for my posting schedule, announcements, fic recs, recent activities, fan art and more!


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